an old writer and his words

  • POOR MAN’S SAUCE

    It was a four burner stovetwo of which still worked.Money was always tight,our parents refusing to understandwhat it cost beyond tuition, room and boardto be a student, forgiven for theyhad never gone to college.We became masters of cheap cooking,two steps beyond ketchup and waterbut the cheapest tomato saucewe could find, and sale herbswell past their…

    Lou Faber

  • OLD BLIND DOGS

    There are times when music takes youto places and events long forgotten, likelistening to Old Blind Dogs and suddenlyI am again a new L2 with two yearsto the J.D. and bar exam, scratching byteaching SAT prep courses, when she calledand said the proverbial rabbit died and Ifinished and broke out in hives for thiswas planned,…

    Lou Faber

  • THE KEY

    “The key,” he said, “is to imbueyour work with poetic energy.”Those of us still botheringto pay attention at allto that empty husk of a oncewell-regarded, honored poethad no freaking idea whatthe hell he was talking aboutand we guessed he didn’t either.He was an easy A English courseand a few of us imagined ourselvesas successful writers,…

    Lou Faber

  • KYOZAN PLANTS HIS MATTOCK

    In your endless searchfor enlightenment,the best course, the only courseis to stop looking. It may strike you,unexpected or it mayarise without your seeingas you continue your practice. You say there are many Buddhasand you are correct, but I saythere is but one Buddha and Iam also correct, and you arethat one Buddha and I amthat…

    Lou Faber

  • STRING QUARTET

    The violinists’ laughter and tearsare flung from her flying bow,drip from his elbow,and wash over the stilled audience –we can taste the seaas we threaten to capsize. The viola is the older brothernow steadying, now caughtin the wave, ridingits dizzying course,dragging us in its wake. The cello is a torso, the cellista surgeon, her handsplucking…

    Lou Faber

  • TOMORROW

    As night settles over our house we slip beneath the blanket and imagine the day to come in all of its promise. By morning, reality will set in and I will awake to a day reliant on us to set its course, a captain with no chart and only hope and compassion to steer us…

    Lou Faber