an old writer and his words

  • ALONG THE WAY

    They walk slowly, each step measured as to both length and cadence. The need not speak, they have long been synchronous, now cannot avoid being so without great effort. They say nothing, words have grown superfluous, and would only interrupt the slow procession of the clouds, the ducks swimming against the river’s flow, the birds…

    Lou Faber

  • NORMALITY

    The herons don’t seem particularly happy even though their mating season is over, for the wood storks have taken over the shrubs on the island, their babies endlessly describing their wants and desires. Even the anhinga hang back, staring down, knowing that soon enough the little ones will fledge and life in the wetlands will…

    Lou Faber

  • FOR THE BIRDS

    It is incredibly frustrating that no matter how long I spend in discussion with the egret, he will tell me nothing of his life, of what it is like to be able to perch on long legs, and then take glorious flight. The limpkin will speak endlessly on this topic, but he really has nothing…

    Lou Faber

  • ANEW

    The front of winter slowly seeps up from the sidewalk into the street unveiling the last falling of autumn’s leaves. A gentle fog rises shrouding the fact that winter, or the most of it lurks just over the distant hills, which mark the margin of our vision. Even the birds sing in our confusion they…

    Lou Faber

  • FLORIDA, JANUARY (2 HAIKU & A TANKA)

    In southern winter odd-shaped and ungainly birds fly in gracefully. The egret peers in and we peer right back at him Florida morning. Alligator lies still in the afternoon sun ignoring the birds and just imagines himself lying in the mid-day sun.

    Lou Faber

  • BACKSTREET TEMPLE

    The afternoon sun glares off the polished roof tiles the bells strung on the pagoda of the small temple tinkle in the wind. There are so few birds in Osaka. First Appeared in Japanophile, Vol. 24, No. 1, 2000.

    Lou Faber

  • EMPTY SPACE

    We sit and discuss complex viscosity values and loss tangent ranges throwing in relaxation modulus for good measure, but we end up at ratios, slicing the data ever thinner, until I fog over and remember that today is the first day of summer, and the birds, bathing in the sun play like children finally freed…

    Lou Faber

  • CECI N’EST PAS UN PARC

    This morning over the Park a Magritte sky is hung. Several birds gather in an old oak to discuss this, twittering thoughts in surprise. Their conclusions fly off at the approach of a black lab joyously frolicking in imagined freedom.

    Lou Faber

  • BY JOVE

    In a Jovian moment Luna paused her wanderings and sat patiently above the trees that stare down on the street. You know they are speaking, want very much to listen in on their conversation, but the birds are busy singing their evening songs, and pay neither moon nor planet the attention that they are due.…

    Lou Faber

  • MINDFUL (THREE HAIKU)

    the bell rings three times outside the birds fall silent all sitting zazen clocks come to a stop time no longer has meaning in meditation apple blossoms fall covering the ground in pink promising summer

    Lou Faber