an old writer and his words

  • BANG

    It all began with a Big Bangor that is what they wouldhave us believe, after alleverything must begin somewhere.If it did begin in thatsub-instant at some infinitely smallpoint, where was that point?There was no space for that pointto exist in, for it did not exist previouslyand anyway, space demands time,they must mutually existor neither will…

    Lou Faber

  • NEVER IMAGINING

    The bridge was there finally, and with some trepidation she crossed it. She knew it led to a brave (hopefully) new world. She knew it would take time and a lot of work to acclimate herself to this alien land, but she also knew there could be no turning back, for the place she knew…

    Lou Faber

  • WRITING

    I have a Chinese friendwho says I should write poemsabout pomegranates and chrysanthemums.A Japanese business acquaintance sayspoems should be populated by sakura and Lotus.I tend to think of their advicein the deadest days of winterwhen snow presses against the houseas if seeking its faint warmth.As I thinly sliced the tender shootsof bamboo and dampen the…

    Lou Faber

  • IN PASSING

    There are always eerie momentswhen you learn of the deathof someone you knew brieflyseveral decades before.You struggle to remember allyou can of your interactions,places, events, even conversations.But the departed always seems justas they looked when you lastsaw them hardly older, hardto imagine death has claimedsomeone you see as young,while your mirror constantlyreminds you of how…

    Lou Faber

  • ON LEARNING PAINFULLY

    I cannot begin to tell youhow glad I am that I neverfollowed through on the ideaof flying to Lisbon and searchingfor you or some record of you.After all, she told the adoptionagency when she gave me upthat you were a Portuguese Jewshe met in Washington, D.C.so the odds were good you couldbe found in the…

    Lou Faber

  • THREE HAIKU

    in truly livingtime should be of no matterthere is only now the great egret knowsthat the sky is a sanctumdenied to humans still dreaming of flightmy feet sink ever deeperin the mud of life

    Lou Faber

  • BUENOS AIRES ON THE GENESEE

    If this were Buenos Aires, if I were Borges, it would all make a great deal of sense. A man, older, and older still if you look closely, walks into an elegant hotel bar. A jazz quintet is playing, straight up, trumpet, piano, guitar, stand up bass, drum kit. The older man is wearing white…

    Lou Faber

  • WOLFGANG

    I suppose it will sound odd, butthere was a time when, in additionto the Rock and Folk music I loved,classical music was a key partof my life and helped make me whatI am today: a now retired attorney.And not just any classical music,although I loved many of the masters,Beethoven, Schubert, Bach, others,(sorry Mahler, Shostokovich butlines…

    Lou Faber

  • THREE HAIKU

    With every breathdeath is a moment closerand so is rebirth this unknown riveris not the one I stepped inone minute ago birth is terminalpromising unknown minutesdeath is a rebirth

    Lou Faber

  • HISTORY

    When he said he wanted to be a historianeven his parents laughed at him, remindinghim that “there’s no money to be madein history unless you want to be a teacher,and you are so much better than that.”He knew they wanted him to becomea doctor, or failing that, at least a lawyer.Few were surprised when, in…

    Lou Faber