an old writer and his words

  • AUTHORSHIP

    If birds could write, which birdwould write like which author.The Osprey would clearly be Hemingwayknowing the sea, but with no need for an old man.The common Gallinule might becomeBilly Collins, an easy laugh and always entertaining.The crows could be so many writersattending workshops, all still lookingfor a voice to express themselves withoutcausing their audience to…

    Lou Faber

  • JIZO’S NOT KNOWING IS THE MOST INTIMATE

    When you comebefore your teacherand he asks youwhat is it exactlythat you are looking for,what is it that youexpect finally to attain,how will you answer him?If you say you are seekingenlightenment, he will laughand send you away,but if you answerthat you do not know,he will hand youan empty bowland tell you to go fill it.…

    Lou Faber

  • SLEEVE

    I wear my hearton my sleeve, he said,so you know what I’mfeeling at any given momentand I am an open bookso you can read my thoughtswhenever you wish to do so. His smile said he wasproud of this state,and he did say it sethim apart from most people. She laughed and saidto him, “But you…

    Lou Faber

  • SIX FEET UNDER

    I remember the afternoonwas cold and damp, with a persistentdrizzle that escapedthe clustered umbrellas,the sky a blanket slowly sheddingthe water that soaked itas it sat out on the clothesline. I suspect you would haveliked it this way, everyone in attendance,everyone shuffling their feet,wanting to look skyward,knowing they would see onlya dome of black umbrella domes.…

    Lou Faber

  • HE WHO LAUGHS LAST

    The moon was kind enoughto linger this morning,knowing that I wanteda photograph, and thatI needed sufficient ambientlight to allow meto fully capture her visage.Sometimes she rises earlyand shows her facebefore the sun retreats.I suppose it may justbe vanity on the moon’s part,showing off for her brightersibling, certain I will neverpause to photograph Sol.Tomorrow it will…

    Lou Faber

  • ADMISSION

    We do not like to admitthat nature laughs at usas we pretend to bend herto our will and desires. We dam and reroute rivers,but the river knows wellthat it will return, flowwhere it wishes, for itwill be here long afterwe have returned to the soil. Still, now and again naturegrows weary with our meddlingand unleashes…

    Lou Faber

  • CLOSE ENOUGH TO HEAR

    We sit around the small tablesglad to be out of the sunwhose midday glare seemsto blind the drivers slowlyapproaching the Jetty Park lot. A family chatters, the childrenlaughing at nothing, at everything,and nearby a dog lays outdreaming of a good walkand dinner, hoping for scraps. We can hear the waterof the inlet, the waves breakingonto…

    Lou Faber

  • KP

    My younger step-siblings had it easyonce our father made seriouis money,for then my mother decided we neededa live in housekeeper, one whocould cook, clean and take careof all those things domestic. So my siblings had only to puttheir dishes near the sink,their laundry down the chute,and keep their rooms marginally tidy. I had missed most…

    Lou Faber

  • WETLAND HAIKU

    Beside the still ponddragonflies hover lightlysenbazuru dawn The Great Egret staresthe still pond returns his staredawning sun laughing Clouds swallow the moonmoorhens chanting their vesperssleep overtakes us A dragonfly sitswaiting for us to take winggravity says no

    Lou Faber

  • PRISONER

    This morning, I am certainthe earth pulled me down more strongly,as though gravity needed to reassert itself,having lost someone in its gripto the virus, a common complaintas we stumble through still another year. I fought it off course, the birdsin the wetland at once admiringmy effort and laughing at what they knewwould ultimately be a…

    Lou Faber