an old writer and his words

  • MISPLACING

    The river through the city hereis badly misplaced, not so much boringas missing something a city river should have.There are no tall buildingsstaring down at the river, no peoplegazing out of office windowswatching the shadows of their prisonsdance on the moving waters.Even in smaller cities the riversbisect its life, people noticing,peering down as they cross…

    Lou Faber

  • DID YOU?

    Sitting on the chairin the photographer’s studiodid you ever pause to wonderthat day, the snow fallingoutside the papered-over windowskeeping the light whollywithin his control,how many lonely menmight keep your picture, youtheir imagined once loverwho left, who died, whogrew apart over time,on their mantle, coffeetable, nightstand, dresser.Did you even know youwould be framed countless timesin several…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT

    The night slowly encases the citythe river flows on toward the lakebirds shiver in the biting chill,the street light flickers and goes out,the wind whistles around the windows,snow begins to coat the trees’ bare branches,a squirrel looks up forlornly,the traffic light inexorably changes colors,TV’s flicker behind curtained windows,we slide beneath the blankets,sleep comes slowly to…

    Lou Faber

  • SLIPPAGE

    As sight slowly slips away, asthe macula continues its retreat,the sense of your senses must change.We are driven by sight; and sound, tastetouch and smell are really just valued adjuncts.The Bard of Avon suggested that the eyesare windows to the soul, and oh how manyseers want to help you look into the future.We are told…

    Lou Faber

  • SEASIDE

    The ocean wind sweeps through the citya sudden rain washes sidewalk, shop, and street,carries both dreams and sins back to the sea. For the young child time slides by easily,life a campaign that allows no retreat.The ocean wind sweeps through the city, rattles church windows, so that all can seethe priest stripped of dogma. Christ…

    Lou Faber

  • STORM

    We walked slowly alongfeet sinking in the sandafter waves swallowed the sun.We could smell its approachbefore the first winds sweptashore pushing sands againstbeach chairs turned for night.Two dogs ran over dunesknowing what would come,drawn by clatter of hammersplacing plywood shuttersover windows and doors.Clouds, an ebony pall, gatheredmocking, waiting for a momentwhen the lid would be…

    Lou Faber

  • MUSING TOKYO

    1 In Asakusaamid the stallsof trinkets and swordswhy do the gaijinall speak German,Italian, Spanish and Swedishand English is reservedto a couple if Nisei. 2 In a small laundromatin Akasakaan old womanclucks and shuffleson wooden sandalspulling kimonosfrom the dryer.My t-shirtsare still damp. 3 In Shibuyathere is a smallstorefront pet shop,its windows fullof cat ryokansome with bedsothers…

    Lou Faber

  • ON ARRIVAL

    This morning arrivedwith a painful slowness, the slothof irregular dreams refusing to concedeto the light struggling to creep aroundthe blinds that hide the oversize windows. It had been that sort of night,sleep arriving and departing witha frustrating lack of constancy, my bodyuncertain of its proper placement ,the mattress offering no easy solutions. Conceding the failure…

    Lou Faber

  • MARC MY WORDS

    You were born 128 years ago, not a long time in the history of the planet and a blink in the life of the universe but two good lifetimes on the day you came into the world, not knowing what would become your place in it. We celebrate you today, as we celebrated you during…

    Lou Faber

  • PRACTICE

    tIn the Buddha Hall autumn daylight filters through the half closed windows. In the garden, Kannon stoops to pick up a fallen leaf.

    Lou Faber