an old writer and his words

  • 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

  • FORESHADOWING

    In my dream we are sittingin a small Italian restaurant.Just where it is located isnot at all clear, but it doesnot matter in the least.I am peering at you overthe menu, you are simplyreading yours decidingon what you will order.We have been here beforeand I know we will beholding hands acrossthe table once we order.I…

    Lou Faber

  • AN EMPTY BAG

    I reached into my bag of dreamsand came up emptyI’m not sure what to make of thissince I cannot rememberthe last time I opened the bag.Usually I let them sneak in and outin the night, and some nightsthey avoid me, mostly,but now they shun me by dayand I don’t know howto deal with that so…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT

    The night slowly encases the citythe river flows on toward the lakebirds shiver in the biting chill,the street light flickers and goes out,the wind whistles around the windows,snow begins to coat the trees’ bare branches,a squirrel looks up forlornly,the traffic light inexorably changes colors,TV’s flicker behind curtained windows,we slide beneath the blankets,sleep comes slowly to…

    Lou Faber

  • HELPLESS

    When night finally concedes,and departs for the horizondragging off my dreamsand pulling its shadow behind itinto a thickening fog, a scrimthat hides the dawn’s arrival,I realize what has been lost.I have tried to grasp dreamsas they recede but it is graspinglimpid mercury that obeys nodirection or request save thatof gravity, and that reluctantly.They will be…

    Lou Faber

  • BUENOS AIRES ON THE GENESEE

    If this were Buenos Aires, if I were Borges, it would all make a great deal of sense. A man, older, and older still if you look closely, walks into an elegant hotel bar. A jazz quintet is playing, straight up, trumpet, piano, guitar, stand up bass, drum kit. The older man is wearing white…

    Lou Faber

  • YOU AGAIN

    I have come to recognize the nightas both dear friend and hated foe,purveyor of nightmare and delight.But now I wish that it would stay awayfor my once immortality is goneand for each night I now have one less day.But night always turns down my plaintive prayerand reminds me that I am still aliveand death is…

    Lou Faber

  • SO CLOSE AND YET

    Some say that we were oncebriefly so close you couldproperly call us one person.I know it did not last, and Igave up looking for youfor the longest time, althoughI always felt the connectionbetween us had never weakened.Years later I did get withineight or so feet of you but younever acknowledged my presenceso I moved on…

    Lou Faber

  • CINQUAINS

    The moonslowly risingswallows the nearby starsbut promises they will returnby dawn The sundigests the moona temporary mealthat will end with the fall of nightagain

    Lou Faber

  • SAY WHAT?

    In the heart of the night Iam wandering the back streetsand alleys of old Kyoto when Istumble across old Joshu staringplacidly at his acolyte monksgathered closely around him.“I ask you all again,” he says,“does a dog have Buddha Nature?”The monks consider this at length,each afraid to respond incorrectly.In this dream I am a cat out…

    Lou Faber