an old writer and his words

  • THAT VOICE

    It is often little more thana faint whisper, distant, butnagging, on occasion in the voiceof a parent now long dead.You can strive to ignore it,may have momentary successin that endeavor, but it willrecur when you think that ithas finally been banished.It is persistent and that, morethan anything, is what makes itso irritating for you know…

    Lou Faber

  • IMPEDIMENTS

    Pause for a moment and considerwhat you truly think of the window,stared at but never seen, at worstan impediment, at best a shield.Is that why it gathers dirt and dust,a vain attempt to establish a presencethat we quickly try to deny again.Doors have an easier time of it forwe must acknowledge them, bidthem a handshake…

    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

  • TWILIGHT

    In the twilight of the dove,that moment when the sun’sretreat has only just begunmy shadow stretchesever so slowly into oblivion. I hear it whisper to mea promise to return and Iwant nothing more thanto believe it, for the grantof another day is a smallwish granted, one I makewith the knowledge thatthe genie of age is…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE MESA

    On the mesa you can step outsideand look up at the sky,clouds building mountainsthat threaten to eat the sun,swallow the moon whole. On the mesa you can step outsideand feel incredibly small,listen to the coyotes withthe ears of scared children,unable to run like the jackrabbit. On the mesa you can step outsideand look up at…

    Lou Faber

  • PARKING

    It is the difference I always noticebetween small and large cities: the parks. When you sit deeply withinBoston Commons or Central Parkyou can feel the city alwaysthreatening to encroach andonce again make you its prisoner,smell and hear the city, trafficand trucks rumbling, hornsplayed in a cacophonous symphony. In small cities you can sit in a…

    Lou Faber

  • FOR RAIN

    The clouds build slowly, turning the sky from blue to ever darkening shades of gray. He hopes it will rain, rain heavily, as the ground is parched, the wetland a bog, and the birds have moved on in search of water. He watches the build up, the clouds accreting, and he waits for the first…

    Lou Faber

  • BEGGAR’S TALE

    I speak clearly, conciselyin an ancient, long forgottentongue that none understand. I tell my tale, leaving outnothing, a summonerin a deaf world, whispering of coins, pulled froman empty pocket and castat your feet, soundless. I point to signs, letteredin my careful hand, withoutmeaning, cryptic to you You urge me to trustin your god even asyou…

    Lou Faber

  • DAITSU CHISHO BUDDHA 無門關 九

    Twenty thousand generationsa hundredhundred livesthe briefest momentin being, there isno becoming, no leaving and nothing is attainedfor there is no needof attainment, Seijowhispered tono one. A reflection on Case 9 of the Mumonkan (The Gateless Gate Koans)

    Lou Faber

  • A VISIT

    I’ve always imagined that one of these nightsI’d see my mother’s ghost. I would welcome the sightwelcome she that bore me, not she that stepped inin a way,absolving my birth mother of her sin,while assuming adopting me would make her complete. She hasn’t visited yet, neither has done so,but I hold out hope, it is…

    Lou Faber