an old writer and his words

  • THREE VIEWS OF WINTER (HAIKU)

    cat curls by the fire dreaming of summer flowers snow falls in laughter now barren branches of the locust tree shiver in the midnight breeze a raging sun sets as cranes raise wings in farewell winter awakens

    Lou Faber

  • LLANYSTUMDWY

    The small church is tucked alongside the narrow road, its moss encrusted stones bathed in the November sun. The headstones in the churchyard lean askew, sagging under the weight of time. The weeds sprout up answering to a silent call. We are here, they seem to say, to reclaim our own, and we shall do…

    Lou Faber

  • DREAM WALKER

    I listen for you in the night, your breathing sets the rhythm of my dreams. It was not always like this. Much as the cat craves a gentle stroking of her back, I long to trace your spine, measure each vertebra by the length of my caress, but I don’t want to pull you fitfully…

    Lou Faber

  • DARLING’S MANTRAS

    You are two and you laugh for everything is funny or can be, if you just tilt your head a certain way or wag a finger at it. The cat watches from behind the sofa with a knowing gaze. For you food is as much a toy as words are food and you cannot imagine…

    Lou Faber

  • AUBADE

    The sun peers through the skylight, sneaks catlike up the comforter. He strokes her cheek, they are drawn together, lips touch, toes twine, hips press, fingers trace, the mattress is a world of infinite gravity. Downstairs the cat paces angrily, the coffeemaker thirsts for beans.

    Lou Faber

  • MUSINGS

    The poet muses: I wonder if a cat purrs when no one is in the same room. I suppose we could put in a microphone and find out. Schrödinger comments: if there is no microphone the cat is purring and the cat is not purring, and what is the half- life of a poem.

    Lou Faber

  • BUDDHA NATURE

    Any good cat will tell you that there is absolutely no good reason to distinguish between here and there, night and day, good and evil, and the list is virtually endless. Cats will admit, if you ask them nicely, that they have no need for such dualities. Cats understand gray in all of its gradations,…

    Lou Faber

  • SCHRODINGER’S DREAM

    Inside the box the cat is alive and the cat is not alive but Schrodinger is dead or the idea of Schrodinger is dead. We walking into the store – he was sitting, rough hewn face in hands, staring at a table covering, ignoring our approach.  He barely looked up when we paid when the…

    Lou Faber

  • UNBEGUN STORY

    There was supposed to be a cat in this story, one being chased by a dog. It could have been a fox, I suppose but they are not seen here that much anymore. It might well have been a crow chased by a hawk, that happens around here with fair regularity but writing about the sky is…

    Lou Faber

  • BUDDHA IN WALES

    Sitting cross legged I dance between mindfulness and Samadhi, slipping the unmarked boundary until engulfed by the void. Buddha crawls into my lap an utter stillness until she touches my cheek with sand paper tongue and kneads my chest with rhythmic paws. I run my fingers down her spine. We purr, wedded in perfect enlightenment.

    Lou Faber