an old writer and his words

  • TOKYO SCENES (PART 1)

    Scene I Garish neon blazes its siren call, Lucky 7777, Vegas Land, Anima Parlor, countless others, and inside the Pachinko machines scream out their riotous cacophony, drowning thought as the balls dance in their maze indifferent to the intent stares of the player, and the smoke which covers the room with its acrid pall. Scene…

    Lou Faber

  • SHRINE

    In the cramped dark little temple the Buddha casts his smile for the duration of a match and then you are returned to the pitch of the life from which you sought solace. Another match, another smile I am here always he whispers, you need only close your eyes to truly see me.

    Lou Faber

  • AWAKENING

    He could not hope to remember how he got there, he had wandered in search of nothing in particular, save dinner as his hunger grew, but in Shinjuku you needn’t read Japanese since the menus sat molded in plastic in the window of even the smallest restaurants. He began to look more intently when he…

    Lou Faber

  • SANCTUARY

    The motion begins deep within you, bleeds quickly outward until it blankets the web between your fingers and toes, collects behind the ears as you hurtle on parallel steel threads connecting Tokyo and Osaka. You are down to the broad fields of golden-yellow beckoning the impending harvest, the rice swaying in the unfelt breeze. In…

    Lou Faber

  • ENDLESS FLIGHT

    Painfully jammed into the middle seat of five three hours into the fourteen hour flight SFO to Tokyo Narita, it is easy to imagine myself a sheet of origami paper carefully and precisely folded into a crane wings bound in anticipation of taking to the air.

    Lou Faber

  • A FLUTE PLAYED BACKWARD : THREE CASES (100 – 98) FROM TETTEKI TŌSUI

    ISAN’S TEN FOOT SQUARE 鐵笛倒吹 百 Ten thousand words what do they mean – with which will you compose a poem for the wall of your room. Leave the room, does the poem remain? Enter the room is this the same poem? Write them on the wind with a pointed leaf, that is a fine…

    Lou Faber

  • SHINJUKU

    The sun rises slowly painfully, stiff from the cold night air, creeping upward, barely warming the streets. In Shinjuku Central Park the trees are still despite the cold breeze. The small group gathers for morning stretches and Tai Chi, smiling toward the fountain and the ten foot waterfall they call Niagara. The siren cuts through…

    Lou Faber

  • MEMORIAL

    This woman approaches the stone, carefully places sake and cherry blossoms and leans a sotoba against it, before bowing and walking away. It is what you do for a son, she says, looking at the bibbed Jizo hoping she can protect the child who lies beneath. That woman approaches the headstone, gently places the flowers and leans…

    Lou Faber

  • NARA PARK

    I Ducks skitter across Ara-ike pond like a perfectly thrown skipping stone. Two sit and preen on large rocks left as pedestals. A spider dragging its prey along the weathered wood railing of the bridge pauses for a moment to contemplate ducks, then moves on consumed by hunger. II Several deer languish among the wizened…

    Lou Faber

  • WALKING AMONG SAND AND PEBBLES: SHASEKI-SHU

    CUP OF TEA             沙石集  一  When the cup is half full what more can be added? In the garden, the moon can exist in a full cup or one only half full. It is the empty cup that can hold entire universes, infinite in capacity.   FINDING A DIAMOND                  沙石集  二  There are endless paths…

    Lou Faber