an old writer and his words

  • THEN AGAIN

    1970. The evening news is a procession of body bags, the halls of the VA Hospital are a storehouse of shattered bodies. He sits with a surreal placidity cross-legged on the small cushion, the corners of his eyes pulling up as if lost in thoughts of Kyoto. I sit, knees creaking even then, across the…

    Lou Faber

  • A CONVERSATION

    She said, “You’re breaking my heart,” as though it was a small twig which, stepped upon, splinters with a small pop, pieces flying in opposition, lost on the forest floor, waiting patiently for the next errant step to further subdivide until the bits are indistinguishable and slowly rot into the soil. I said, “My emotions…

    Lou Faber

  • FINDING BUDDHA

    Grasp what you love but hold it carefully, for it may slip away into the blackness of night. Grasp what you fear but hold it carefully, for it may slip away on the feet of your lover.

    Lou Faber