an old writer and his words

  • SLEEVE

    I wear my hearton my sleeve, he said,so you know what I’mfeeling at any given momentand I am an open bookso you can read my thoughtswhenever you wish to do so. His smile said he wasproud of this state,and he did say it sethim apart from most people. She laughed and saidto him, “But you…

    Lou Faber

  • NONATTACHMENT

    There was the collectivist period,those years when I wanteda copy of every book on BuddhismI could locate, a full and nearlycomplete library, sutras andphilosophical discourses included. There was the moment when Irealized the absurdity of all that,the attachment to textsto enable me to find the abilityto practice non-attachment,and I gave the books away,and finally set…

    Lou Faber

  • SIN

    A poet suggested that sinwas created by the Christians,wrong, of course, but perhapsjust being politically correctin not naming the Jews asits creator, or at leastgiving it a name and rulebook. And on the point of accuracythe poet might have notedthat the Jews createdthe Christians, for Jesuswas one of them, a reformerbefore Judaism would allowanything beyond…

    Lou Faber

  • IN MOURNING

    I will soon enough bein mourning for literatureand philosophy for the momentis approaching when theywill be lost, or I supposesimply subsumed, swallowedup in a cloud appearingmomentarily then gone. The day is rapidly approachingand if you doubt itfor even a moment, goto your local library, ifit has not closed, and notethe diminishing numberof books, replacedby computers,…

    Lou Faber

  • GUIDEBOOK HELL

    When did we decide we neededa manual for everything, a field guideto living, tour books piled highbefore we leave on a trip,having meant to read themand dragging one or two alongto study when we get there? Ask yourself what you mighthave seen in some foreign citywith the time you spenthead buried in a tour guidelearning…

    Lou Faber

  • DARE I SAY

    Few will dare say it, but Ihave always imagined myselfamong the few at most thingsso I suppose it falls to me. The lifecycle of the poetincises an arc and there arerecognizable nodes along its pathfrom beginning to end. The first poem published in ajournal, no matter how small,then one in a publication othershave heard of,…

    Lou Faber

  • HUMPTY DUMPTY SAYS

    He had long since decided that language was impossible, the English language in particular. He had acquired all manner of dictionaries, and had searched the web, using it as a reverse dictionary. But all too often the language came up short. Words at best approximated what he meant, what he saw, but to get even…

    Lou Faber

  • GREATLY EXAGERATED

    Many now say the age of great literaturehas died, the mortal woiund inflictedby the advent of the self-correctingIBM Selecric typewriter, when wordsbcame evanescent, as suddenly goneas when they spilled onto the page. Others, I count myself among them,believe the wound was not fatal,deep certainly, but yet there remainsa faint pulse, ressuscitation possiblewith the application of…

    Lou Faber

  • BODHIDHARMA’S VAST AND VOID

    You want holy teachingsboiled down, synthesizeddigestible in bites so dine on the holesnothing, emptinessis sustenanceenough look at me, at a windowas you do a mirrorno knowing,a familiar facebut whose the face will departyours or hisyou will awakento endless absence learn nothingnessoverflowing void A reflection on Case 1 of the Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record)

    Lou Faber

  • WRITERS

    I was born the same day, ina much later year as Thornton Wilder,a fact that had no impact at allon my life, since I discovered ourcommon birthday long aftermy life’s path was half tread. I read him in my youth, and mustadmit I can recall nothing of whatI read, which I attribute to allthat I…

    Lou Faber