an old writer and his words

  • UNSAID

    There is so much you wish to sayand yet silence envelopes youwhile those who spoke are led away and you feel a moment’s dismayat what you were forced to do.There is so much you wish to say Gods and men you would inveighbut it was not your lot they drewwhile those who spoke are led…

    Lou Faber

  • ARISING

    It is far too early to think about that,although many would sayit is already far too late. That is the conundrumin which we find ourselves,defining our options, drawingpolitical lines that arenot dare crossed unless youaccept there can be no return. And those who say it’stoo early, it can wait, must hopethat they can emulatethe Phoenix…

    Lou Faber

  • CARTOGRAPHY

    On the map are neatly etched lines drawn by a fine stylus in a skilled hand separating blue from yellow. This soil is cinnamon there tending to mahogany no line, only a post here, one there and a gun emplacement to deter those who cannot see a line writ on water. In the wind the…

    Lou Faber

  • TRIANGULATION

    He says that foremost Mao Zedong was a poet, and knew that all poetry must at some level be political, must incite the reader to rebel against complacency. I say that Zhao Zhenkai wrote as Bei Dao as the ultimate act of rebellion, sacrificing his very identity. He says that I am anchored by the…

    Lou Faber

  • NIL, ZERO, NADA, NYET

    This morning absolutely nothing happened. The newswires were silent, or repeated old stories. The sports wires had nothing of note to say, save repeating yesterday’s scores. Even the gossip news was absent, as though a Saturday night passed without embarrassment. I did not mind the quiet, the almost silence, able to listen to the Mockingbird’s…

    Lou Faber

  • IN THE BREACH

    There is little you can do about it, less that you want to do, although they are not pleased with your decision. Remind them that they are the ones that left the decision to you, mostly in the hope you would do what they hoped, taking them off the hook, but they now realize they…

    Lou Faber

  • IN MOURNING

    These days we collectively mourn those we have sacrificed on the holy altar of our ignorance. There was a time when we limited war to one per generation, but we now wage them in clusters, it being easier to deal with the interminable periods of boredom where we have nothing to do but imagine peace.

    Lou Faber