an old writer and his words

  • SWING

    The sax swings freely rising and falling on the notes he coaxes out, dancing around the bass’s rhythm, the brushes caressing the drum heads. You close your eyes and allow the music to carry you off. It is at the set’s end when he unfolds the white cane that you see you share a common blindness.

    Lou Faber

  • 17/3

    Blue heron takes flight giant wings stir wispy clouds April emerges. December garden faceless Buddha loudly laughs wriggling toes in snow. Bang the drum loudly kasha awaits the silence a winter tempest

    Lou Faber

  • CHINDI

    Drum beats rhythm turtle rattle shakes Night walks eating sky earth swallows its children. Wolf howls stalking souls.

    Lou Faber