an old writer and his words

  • DRY FEET

    My Buddhist teachers saythat you cannot stepinto the same river twice.I am not one for steppinginto rivers at all, havingas a child done so andslipping on a smooth rockfalling and bruising my thigh.It was more of a creekand I should have seenthe slime on the rockbut a child is more interestedin what lies ahead and…

    Lou Faber

  • ME AND MY . . .

    I didn’t stopto think it at all oddthat when I walked backwardthis morning my shadowdecided to walk ahead of me.I was going to ask him whyhe decided to lead, butas I turned to walk backto the car he fell insilently behind meand refused to answeras the clouds came over usand he slipped away again.

    Lou Faber

  • POSTDICTIONS

    In the beginning there wasa void, stasis, dimensionless.I am a point, without sizetaking form only in motion,so too the seat on whichI sit on United flight 951not going from point Ato point B for neithercan exist in motiontranscending time. Each decision setsone me on a path, intoa dimension, dimensionswhile I tread a different pathand I…

    Lou Faber