an old writer and his words

  • NANSEN’S HUT

    If you have fine china you will be saddened when it breaks. If your pantry is full your anxiety grows as the food diminishes. But if you are alone with nothing, the apple that falls on the road is a feast, and the stream runs free with the finest wine. The silence of sun and…

    Lou Faber

  • TO A POET, TO THE WEST

    Richard Wilbur lives in Massachusetts and in Key West, Florida according to his dust jackets. If you set sail westward from San Diego you may find your dream of China, of the endless wall which draws the stares and wonder more foreboding more forbidden even than the city, which you visit to sate yourself of…

    Lou Faber

  • FROM THE BEGINNING

    Pangu* came by for a visit the other night. He tends to drop by uninvited. “Hate to call ahead,” he says, “it ruins the surprise.” He’s aged a bit since the last visit, and I told him he looked different. “It’s just a look. It’s the same old me, but I tend to scare people. So…

    Lou Faber