an old writer and his words

  • LISTENING

    We should have heardthe blasts of the trumpetsthat morning, encircling us,we caged in, imaginingourselves to be innocents. We should have heardbefore that day, but wehad chosen deafness,and the cries, the threatsof warning wereso easily cast aside. As the walls fellaround us we realizedthat we had no escapeand we cried to our Godas they cried out…

    Lou Faber

  • FORGOTTEN

    In the great cemeteryin a corner reserved for thatostentation only wealth can buyI am struck by one massivemarble walled mausoleum.Who lies within is of noimportance to anyone otherthan the ones who lie within.Small graves in common bulksections are dotted with freshor faded flowers waitingto nourish the soil, or is itthe souls of those who lie…

    Lou Faber

  • RULES

    I learned from John Berrymanby way of W.S. Merwin that as a poetI should paper my walls with rejection letters.I thought this a good idea whenI lived in a small apartment, butall too soon the walls appearedto be growing ever smallerand I was papering over paper,like the latest in a too longline of tenants who…

    Lou Faber

  • RAKUHO’S LAST MOMENTS

    If I ask you “do youwish to find enlightenment,”how do you answer?If you say you doyou are yet another stepin the wrong direction.If you say you do notwish to find enlightenment,why are you practicing?If you sit on the cushionin total silence saying nothingyour answer willecho off the walls. A reflection on Case 41 of the…

    Lou Faber

  • SAVANNAH

    The morning clings to youlike a damp sheet, the foglifting slowly, a magnifierpulled away from the square,the live oaks edging into focus. You sit at the table, wipingthe crumbs from you reallydon’t want to know when,a steaming cortado waitingpatiently for the first bitesof the large scones onthe mismatched plates. In the background a cry,“vanilla soy…

    Lou Faber

  • IN ABSENTIA

    It is, I thinkher lips I miss mosttheir butterfly flutteracross my cheekthen her eyes, almost felinethat see withinbehind wallshastily erectedthat fall to her sight.It is all of thatand the whispered wordslinking heartsthat still echoas she slides into sleep.I cry out to Morpheusmy words are swallowedby the droneof the enginesthat fall as raininto the Sea of…

    Lou Faber

  • THE WEIGHT OF MOURNING

    The weight of mourning defies precise measurement,and all of the rules of mathematics fail in an attempt.Grief rejects being placed on scales, there is nevera moment of pure equilibrium, only a teeteringthat always threatens to bring it all down in a heap.A million who are nameless and faceless is an agonyand yet eighty thousand with…

    Lou Faber

  • WRITTEN

    It was written for all to seebut went unseen as no oneentered the portal willingly,never sufficient curiosityto offset the foreboding.Everyone knew what it saidbut knowing and seeing areseparated by an unbridgeable chasm.It remained an imposed solitude,an isolation inherent in location,implicit in a world spinningoff its moral axis, time extendedand compressed, an irregular pulse.It was written…

    Lou Faber

  • MY RABBI (PART 1)

    If you ask why I am a BuddhistI will tell you there are a myriadof possible reasons, choose one,or take this one, it fits nicely. I am in college, pulling my gradesup to mediocre, thoughts of medicinegone, law only faint on a distant horizona master’s degree away. I visit my childhood rabbi, a manwho has…

    Lou Faber

  • CITY OF DREAMS

    I live in city thatisn’t a city at all,despite what it callsitself. It is a suburbof suburbs, whichin Florida can passfor a city. The birds ignorethe gates and wallsand come and gofreely. We live insidethe gates and wallsand remember livingin a real city.

    Lou Faber