an old writer and his words

  • EVER PATIENT

    Fuji-san, its snow cap slowly retreating,smiles down on the ever goldening rice shoots.The holy mountain pays no notice to the Shinkansenhurtling its way from Tokyo to Osakanot pausing to pay homage to the godswho inhabit the venerable volcano and whohave grown tired awaiting the favor of thoserushing, always rushing, to be somewhere else.Fuji-san knows that…

    Lou Faber

  • WRITING

    I have a Chinese friendwho says I should write poemsabout pomegranates and chrysanthemums.A Japanese business acquaintance sayspoems should be populated by sakura and Lotus.I tend to think of their advicein the deadest days of winterwhen snow presses against the houseas if seeking its faint warmth.As I thinly sliced the tender shootsof bamboo and dampen the…

    Lou Faber

  • ACT IV

    He knew he should not have brought the gun. He hated guns, they served no purpose in his world of words. He wanted to look at it, to stare at it, really. He thought that if he did so he might be better able to write about the senselessness of the world in which he…

    Lou Faber