an old writer and his words

  • FLATTERY

    I have never bought into the conceptthat imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.That said, I have spent far too long scouringthe small shops of Crete, Santorini, Lesbos,the back alleys of towns on Rhodes, Corfu,Naxos, Lemnos, Chios, driven throughThessaloniki, Patras Piraeus, Heraklion.Throughout, I’ve carefully marshaledwords and phrases, outlined forms,honed allusions, alliteration, the odd chiasmusI’ve even…

    Lou Faber

  • AUTHORSHIP

    If birds could write, which birdwould write like which author.The Osprey would clearly be Hemingwayknowing the sea, but with no need for an old man.The common Gallinule might becomeBilly Collins, an easy laugh and always entertaining.The crows could be so many writersattending workshops, all still lookingfor a voice to express themselves withoutcausing their audience to…

    Lou Faber

  • BLEEDING

    A violinist canlook at an Amatior a Guarnieriand hear a concerto. A birder hearsthe call of the songbirdand can describethe beauty of her plumage. A skilled photographerlooks through the viewfinderand tells a complete storywith one press of the shutter button. But it is the poetalone, staring at a blank page,who spills onto it joy and…

    Lou Faber

  • WORDS, WORDS, WORDS

    They can have sharp edgesthat wound on contact, some cutsso deep they leave lasting scars. They can get stuck in the throatuntil you feel you can no longerbreathe, no longer cry out for help. They can lie there, anaggregate always acretingand yet rejecting any meaning. Or they can, carefully chosenpresent great beauty, offerhope, promise freedom.…

    Lou Faber

  • PFFFT

    As I age now I amaware that the tetherto my earliest memorieshas grown thin, stretchedby time until I know it will,of necessity, soon give way. And so I spend sparemoments trying to sortthrough my life as I recallit, selecting those momentsthat bear the effort of retetheringso that time would be betterserved weakening others. But the…

    Lou Faber

  • SHE

    You were a young beautyto my middle aged eyesthat knew, despite the mirror’slies, that I too retainedsome large measure of youth. Even that is now behind us,and I can no longer denythe mirror’s sad truth,my face unable to belie whatI knew time had wrought. And yet your beauty hasnot diminished, rather grownas does a fine…

    Lou Faber

  • ONE FLAVOR ZEN

    How far must you wanderto taste the pure essence,hear the pure note,see deeply into beauty,smell the first flower of spring,touch another heart.Will you grow tiredfrom standing stillin total silencecontemplating this? A reflection on Case 65 of Dogen’s Shobogenzo Koans (Trud Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber

  • SCHMUTZ

    Looking out the windowI quickly realize that the windowneeds cleaning, and thenthat the red-shouldered hawkin the nearby tree is carefullystaring back at me. I want to know whatthe hawk is thinking, perhapsthat I am possible prey, ormore likely wondering whyI am so foolish as to livein a strangely large box. The hawk, of course, iswondering…

    Lou Faber

  • TRY LOOKING

    He loved walking around the small lake. He could make a circuit in just under 40 minutes. If. If he didn’t stop to marvel at or photograph some bird along the shore. The runners flashing by him gave him strange looks, likely because they didn’t see the beauty in this bird’s feathers, how the light…

    Lou Faber

  • STARS

    Once the winter starswrapped in their cloudy shroudshed frozen tears, unwillingto come out of hiding.We searched for them in vain,knowing our failure,retreating to the warmthof home, only to repeatthe failed effort on somany other nights. Now, here, the winter starsare usually fearless,some drowned by the moon,but she waxes and wanesand they reappear, the brightestnever fearing…

    Lou Faber