an old writer and his words

  • UMMON’S WHITE AND BLACK

    If you come upon a masterand he says “give me your answer,”how do you respond?You cannot say to himthat he has not asked a questionfor that would be an answerto a question you sayhas not been given.Better you should bow to himand sit silently before him. A reflection on Case 40 of the Book of…

    Lou Faber

  • FLOATING

    They are swimming around today and it is disconcerting. But they bend to no will but their own, so he must live with them. They have names now, the larger ones which makes it easier, for he can engage them in conversation, although it is all monologue as they have nothing to say. He hopes…

    Lou Faber

  • A QUICKLY PASSING SEASON

    That summer was onehe would always remember.She was special, she told him soand he had no reasonto doubt her. Thatand he was one to fallso easily into whathe thought was love.It lasted well into Augustwhen she said it was over.He did not understand whybut he was not one to argueso he consigned herto a memory…

    Lou Faber

  • YOU LOSE EITHER WAY

    The timing could not have been worse. But when Murphy does the planning, the timing will always never be worse. You do wonder just who Murphy was. Certainly not the kind old gentleman who owned the pub by that name in midtown Manhattan. Maybe a distant cousin of Mrs. O’Leary. I mean even the cow…

    Lou Faber

  • THE HERMIT

    The hermit livesin the shadowof the great mountainlistening to the symphonyof the bluebirdand the wild Roseengulfed by the sky,the meandering streamhis constant companion.I live in a cityin a sea of city dwellerseach of us prisonersmarching from cellto cell, with passing nods.we hear only solitudeand are blindto the ever shifting clouds.Kuan Yin sitsin her templeand whispers…

    Lou Faber

  • SAVANNAH

    The morning clings to youlike a damp sheet, the foglifting slowly, a magnifierpulled away from the square,the live oaks edging into focus. You sit at the table, wipingthe crumbs from you reallydon’t want to know when,a steaming cortado waitingpatiently for the first bitesof the large scones onthe mismatched plates. In the background a cry,“vanilla soy…

    Lou Faber

  • JOSHU’S BOWL-WASHING

    When you sit before your teacherhe may ask you a simple question,why, perhaps, your robeis not tied, why, perhaps,your posture is slumping.If you sit and answer,he will dismiss you, butif you stand and tie your robe,sit down in a good posturehe will give you gasshoand send you on your path. A reflection on Case 39…

    Lou Faber

  • VINCENT

    When we visited Arleswe expected to see paintingsof wildflowers, night skies,all the images that Van Goghleft as his legacy. We did see posters,postcards and booksbut not a single paintingis to be found by the masterwhere he painted. We at least hopedthe night sky from the boatwould be somethingto remember alwaysbut clouds over Arleslook much the…

    Lou Faber

  • DYING TO KNOW

    Last week my doctor saidI really needed to updatemy Advance Directiveand Living Will. There isnothing more joyous thantelling doctors whento pull the plug and let youslip away into the crematorium.And now that I did, I realizeI must redo it for it is onlywhen I can no longer writea poem that I will be sufficientlyfar gone…

    Lou Faber

  • RISING TIME

    Night rises slowlyfrom tangled rootsdragging ocher and rustfrom reluctant trees,promising only winter.We cannot see this,we sense only time eroding,slipping off untilthe trees are naked.They want onlyto hide themselvesin a shimmering gownof snow, recallingtheir verdancy, imagininganother season, a seasonof hope, a seasonof consecration, of light,of resurrection.We stand emotionallystripped on the banksof the stream into whichwe cannot…

    Lou Faber