an old writer and his words

  • CASSIE

    I looked for you last nightwhen the cloud slowly peeled backand the moon reluctantly went dark.Despite my presbyopia I foundyour throne lying in view, emptyand you nowhere to be seen, evenPersius said he never saw you leave.I truly miss you, Cassie and hopeyou will soon return for the starsare diminished by your absence.

    Lou Faber

  • CIRCLING

    This morning as the bellsignaled the end of morning zazenthe whistling ducks took uptheir song, circling the wetlandas if inviting me to photograph them. They quickly grew bored waitingand flew off to a placeI do not know, can not imagine. Perhaps they will returnthis afternoon, circlein a duck like pose as I capturethem with the…

    Lou Faber

  • WHEN

    We are told that we cannotlive in the past, that would bea senseless waste of the present. But we cannot live withoutthe past for then there would beno true present in which to live. So we are left to hover betweenthe past and its absence,knowing the present will soon be the past, there or gone,caught…

    Lou Faber

  • ELEGY FOR A POET

    (for Allen Ginsburg) You died quietly in your bed friends gathered around the cars and buses of the city clattering out a Kaddish to a God you had long ago dismissed as irrelevant. We would have expected your to howl, to decry the unfairness of it all, but you merely said it is time, and…

    Lou Faber

  • BODHIDHARMA’S “VAST AND VOID”

    You want holy teachings boiled down, synthesized digestible in bites so dine on the holes nothing, emptiness is sustenance enough look at me, at a window as you do a mirror no knowing, a familiar face but whose? the face will depart yours or his you will awaken to endless absence learn no thingness overflowing…

    Lou Faber

  • MIND THE GAP

    The difference between love and lust is as thin as the blade of a fine razor, as broad as the Rio Grande Canyon outside Taos, so how can you tell one from the other? Some will say it is an impossible task others will take the “I know it when I see it” route leading…

    Lou Faber

  • MORNING

    Each morning she looks at the small window in her bedroom, just after the sun has broken the horizon and the lake is set ablaze. Each morning she sees the small boat, its oars resting on the gunwale, dark against the orange water. She never asks how the boat got there, why it stays there,…

    Lou Faber