an old writer and his words

  • LISTENING

    We should have heardthe blasts of the trumpetsthat morning, encircling us,we caged in, imaginingourselves to be innocents. We should have heardbefore that day, but wehad chosen deafness,and the cries, the threatsof warning wereso easily cast aside. As the walls fellaround us we realizedthat we had no escapeand we cried to our Godas they cried out…

    Lou Faber

  • TANKA, TANKA, HAIKU

    The dawn sky arrivesvelvet blue on my fingersand the gathered birdshear the cobalt song of dayin this our private heaven On this sapphire nightstars search for the missing moonthe blue sky of dawnis still deeply in hidingfrom night’s moment of glory Oceans remembera time before we arrivedtheir once deep blueness

    Lou Faber

  • DOWNSIDE UP

    For just one dayI want to look at everythingfrom the opposite side,the back or the bottom only.The coffee cup from whichI have sipped a thousand cappuccinoshas initials and I now wantto know who shaped it,how they did the glazeand what they saw in its pattern.So many things will tell mewhere they are from, eventhose who…

    Lou Faber

  • GOOD?

    She used to ask me if I had a good day.It was a loaded question for there wasno good answer in her view, it was reallyjust rhetorical, something you saidto avoid talking about your ownfeelings and emotions at any given moment.She expected me to complain about allthat did not go as planned, whereuponshe could roll…

    Lou Faber

  • CABERNET

    Sitting at the table lookingat a glass of cabernet sauvignonits legs long reaching from rimto dwindling pool I ask myselfif I could imagine tending the vinesin France or more likely Napawatching the purple orbs take formand cluster, caring for the canesthat have deemed themselvestoo old to bear any longer.My knees are tired and dirtycutting the…

    Lou Faber

  • CHANGES

    Each morning after arisingI look in the mirrorI imagine everything is the same as the day beforeI imagine everything has changedf rom the day before.I do ask the mirror what itbelieves has changed, what itbelieves has stayed the same.Most days it says nothing, merelystares back at me, mocking.Occasionally the mirror will concedethat it is another…

    Lou Faber

  • MEMORIAL PRAYER

    We are rapidly approachingthe forty-ninth day since youdied early that morning.We knew you would be dying,you told us so, told usnot to worry, it was your time.Still each day we recitethe memorial verses, hopeothers in the sanghado as well, hope that yourtransition out of this lifehas been made, in somesmall measure, easierby our daily recitation.We…

    Lou Faber

  • GOING SLOWLY

    It is a simple fact that I amlikely going blind, but onlyslowly so far, one eye witha hole in its vision, but outsideits event horizon, largely normal.It is odd that when you know youwill likely lose your sight thatbecomes less scary, you approachit as something new, testingyour vision constantly butlooking more closely, takingin details you…

    Lou Faber

  • A FOOL’S BUSINESS

    At the end of a long day spenton the business end of poetry, andyes there is a business end but do notconfuse that with money for thathas nothing at all to do with poetry,I stare at the page knowing the wordsare going to be stubborn this day,will refuse to exit the pen, hidingin the darkness…

    Lou Faber

  • UNFOLDING

    Wake into the morning’s lightunsure of how you arrived in this moment,of what this day may promise,of how it will unfurl before you, perhapslike a work of art of a dementedorigami unfolding randomly, everythingor nothing at all, no way of knowing.This could be a delusion, could bethe dregs of a dream that night left behind,could…

    Lou Faber