an old writer and his words

  • DRY FEET

    My Buddhist teachers saythat you cannot stepinto the same river twice.I am not one for steppinginto rivers at all, havingas a child done so andslipping on a smooth rockfalling and bruising my thigh.It was more of a creekand I should have seenthe slime on the rockbut a child is more interestedin what lies ahead and…

    Lou Faber

  • ARTISTIC SENSE

    Perhaps the moon should learnwhat so many artists know,that it is more enticingif the body is not blatantly displayed.Certainly the fully nude bodydraws the eye, but showing less,a hint of flesh, of thigh or breast,leaves the viewer wanting more.But the moon cannot seem to helpherself, always the slow stripteaseuntil she is fully bare and thenembarrassed…

    Lou Faber

  • IN THE CITY OF DREAMS

    my demonssink into the abyssof memoryand drownin the hollowbetween her breasts,she touches my armand presses backwe are Siamese fetusesfloating untetheredin the sea of night,I can smell the sweet soapand taste the sweatbeading on hershoulder blades,I brush my fingersacross her thighand cling to sleep. First published in Discretionary Love, June 2023https://www.discretionarylove.com/in-the-city-of-dreams-louis-faber/

    Lou Faber

  • NEVER TWICE

    Buddhism teaches that you can never step into the same river twice. I have not stepped in a river since I was eleven. That day I stepped, my foot found a momentary purchase on a mossy rock. The outcome was predictable. I slipped, cut my thighs, broke my tibia, bruised my elbow. I did heal,…

    Lou Faber

  • BEFORE YOU LEAP

    She always told himthat he should, no must,“look before you leap.” He said he understoodand would do so, almostalways, he was after alla child and no promisecould be that absolute. When he came outof the anesthesia,his arm and legin a cast, he saw herscowling at him. “I did,” he said, “I did,I looked for quite…

    Lou Faber