an old writer and his words

  • OVER UNDER SIDEWAYS DOWN

    He is fond of saying that it is “water under the dam,” and she constantly calls him on it, reminding him that water goes over the dam. He smiles when she does this and reminds her that it isn’t a dam if water is going over it, and it is mindless to say its water…

    Lou Faber

  • EARLY MORNING

    Early this morning as I drove through the mist that clings to Portland in March like a child’s yellow slicker, I thought of you, home, asleep on our bed, my side tidy, no faint indentation of life, and I thought of the thousands who have died to date in Iraq, who never again will leave…

    Lou Faber

  • RIVERS

    I have never been particularly one for rivers. Like everyone, I’ve walked along their shores, listened to them gurgle under remote bridges but otherwise never paid them much attention. There’s an old Buddhist saying you can’t step into the same river twice, but that presupposes you step into the river the first time. I remember…

    Lou Faber

  • TO THE SEA

    Today I would like to walk to the river, fashion a boat from a sheet of paper, and set off on it to a far distant sea. Most would think me crazy, but most see only the water flowing by under the bridge, and not the sea that lies out of sight beyond the horizon,…

    Lou Faber

  • CONTEMPLATING

    She stands on the bridge and stares down into the slowly flowing river. She wonders what it might feel like to climb the railing and pushing off, gain flight. The river would welcome her, enfold her, carry her to its heart. She will not leap this day just as she did not the day before,…

    Lou Faber