an old writer and his words

  • OCULUS

    I avoid telling people that Iam going blind in my right eyefor they always seem surprisedas if it should look differentor worse, they say “but it mightnot happen,” when I knowthe only way that is truehis if I die sooner, not somethingI want and if I told them thatwould be something for which theywould fumble…

    Lou Faber

  • POLISH

    Mother made a point of remindingme to polish my shoes, she saiduntidy shoes are the markof a poor man, one to be avoided. I noticed she never wore shoesthat needed polish, never had waxand brush in hand, and when her shoesshowed wear they were replaced. I learned early not to talk backto her, the penalty…

    Lou Faber

  • HOW WOULD I KNOW

    It is highly likelythat I snored mostof last night, I cannotbe certain but my wifesays I did and sheis rarely wrongabout such things. I would liketo blame iton my back, discsbulging where theyought not, titaniumrods claiming theyhold the whole thingtogether, but Icannot be certainof that either onceI slip into sleep. I am temptedto stay up…

    Lou Faber

  • SEARCHING

    I never imagined thatthe search would take so longor be so difficult. I never imaginedI had set off seekingthe Holy Grail. It once was easyI recalled, little searchingand plentiful enough. Now, hours spentactually wasted, I concededthat it was futile and went back deepinto time to bring forthwhat I never imagined would be so hardto find,…

    Lou Faber

  • EMPTY SACKS WILL NEVER STAND UPRIGHT

    There are nightswhen the songof a single cricketcan pull you away from sleep.She says that she has heardthat not all Angels have wingsand neither of themis sure how you would knowif you met a bodhisattva.He searches the mailevery day, for a letterfrom unknown birth parentsbut none of the credit cardshe ought to carryoffers to rebate…

    Lou Faber

  • ONE STEP TOO FAR

    “As you get older,” he said,“the body grows remarkablyadept at telling you whenyou have done too much,or done something you shouldn’t.” What he didn’t say, the criticalpiece of advice I wish I heard,is that the body only speakswell after the fact, a lecturesurely, but never a warning. No one wants to go a stepshort, to…

    Lou Faber

  • My back bemoans its age, knowing the alternative is far worse, and as we limp along, we await the call to attend the unveiling of the resonance images which draw us in and will, in short order explain everything if, even, there is no answer no underlying truth and certain it will not find the…

    Lou Faber

  • RETURNING

    Time has no role to play in any of this. Time isn’t pleased by the prospect, it prefers to be ever present, ever escaping, even as it is arriving. It is quirky that way. It is constant yet it loves to give the impression of being variable. Einstein noted this, and anyone returning from a…

    Lou Faber

  • SUMMER SONGS

    the dangling green orbs hang beneath the verdant leaves dreaming of summer. sweat rolls down my back the noon sun stares angrily forgotten winter evening sky darkens is it the approach of night or simple summer rain?

    Lou Faber

  • BENDING DREAMS

    In Hawaii I could stare for hours at a taro field, the bent back of a farmer, and the same a gentle fold of spine I saw from the Shinkansen, Tokyo to Osaka amid the fields of yellow, later rice in some bowl perhaps even mine, or in Antwerp as the chef patiently picked over…

    Lou Faber