an old writer and his words

  • WIDOWER

    In the cold nightof another winterhe stares outacross the barren fieldswhich have long forgottenthe taste of the sun.He watches carefullyfor a signbut the naked branchdenies the breeze.He remembershow it once wasin the heatof the dying firethe sweetness of her lipslingering on his tongue.She is gone, has beenso long, her faceis hiddenby the gauzy veilof time.He…

    Lou Faber

  • SO TO SPEAK

    One of the obvious problemswith growing older is the tendencyto begin using phrases you always detestedwhen young: “back in the day,” and it’sequivalents maddened you in your youthand are now a common element of your vernacular. Worse still is the knowledge that the dayswhich you seem to lovingly recallweren’t all that good as you lived…

    Lou Faber

  • OUT OF HIDING

    The hidden joy of youth, and itsinevitable disappointment, isin finding that special person.Each time it is the birth of true love,eventually, save in rare circumstances,it is the death of an illusionand the aching pain accompanying the loss. The certainty of youthful emotionis a bondage that is most often inescapable,and there is no desire to leave…

    Lou Faber

  • SANSHO’S GOLDEN CARP

    When you sitbefore your teacherif you ask him a questionhe will return only silence.If you listento his silence closelythe dharmawill be revealed to you.A large stonethat rolls easilymay not be lifted. A reflection on Case 33 of the Book of Equanimity (従容錄, Shōyōroku)

    Lou Faber

  • CHARLESTON, WV

    Half of me, according to the twistedstrands of deoxyribonucleic acid,has its roots in Liskovo, which would bea simple matter were there not townsby that name in Poland and Belarus,and none in Lithuania, the language of my genes. All of this is preparatory to my visitnext week to the city where my mother,grandparents and great grandparentsare…

    Lou Faber

  • UNUSUAL

    I recall it wasn’t as cold as usualthat early November evening, Iwas standing nervously on the small deckin front of the Indian restaurant.This was going to be my fourthfirst date of my lifetime, notsurprising in the abstract, unlessyou realize that put me on an averageof one every twelve years.Fast forward almost three yearsand I am…

    Lou Faber

  • FORGIVE ME

    There is always a certain levelof guilt when the Amazonpackage arrives, as they didalmost daily, since Imostly avoided storesduring the pandemic.My guilt arises at the sightof the face of the driverrushing to leave the package,leaping back on the truck,knowing he is graded onthe speed at which hecompletes the far too long run,relieving himself in a…

    Lou Faber

  • A CITY OUT THERE

    Somewhere out therein a city strugglingthere is a man dancingin the reflected lightof a street lampto the sound of the wind,there is a couplecaressing each other,wishing for just onecigarette,there is a babycalling for its motherfor a meal,there is a carparked in a drivewayits lights fadinginto the bleakness,there is a neon signflashing OPENinto the void of…

    Lou Faber

  • EVER FAITHFUL

    We are, after all, merely humanso we are fraught with questionsand lacking answers, willingto take things on faith on occasion. Take God, for example, althoughsome say He is uniquely exemplary,we want to know if God is a he,a she, or to cover all our bases, a they. And when we ask for a sign weoften…

    Lou Faber

  • SIMPLY MAGIC

    The magic of jazzis not what you think –there is nothing randomeven in the wildest, inthe acidest of solos. Cacophony is randomnessand the key to jazzis to see theinvisible logic,read the mind,be the mindof the musician. It is zen, but onlyif you stop searchingand just be in itsmoment.

    Lou Faber