an old writer and his words

  • THE MESA, MIDNIGHT

    The coyotes come down from the Sandia Hills onto the mesa.  They are not spirits.  They are not totems.  They are not tricksters.  They are hungry: for a jackrabbit, for a bird, for a small dog wandering too far from a half-lit earthship.  They smell the sage, its faint odor carried on the night breeze. …

    Lou Faber

  • DHAMMAPADA

    A foolish man sits at the edge of the pond, his feet perfectly still in the water. He stares into the mirrored surface and sees a fool, smiles as a ginkgo leaf floats like a sail on a morning breeze onto the pool, ripples radiate out, touching his toes and he smiles, and the fool…

    Lou Faber

  • MISSING PERSONS

    I enter the station house and walk up to the neck high desk. I would like to report a missing person. I have been gone more than twenty-four hours. I can’t give a very good description, my eyes see in the mirror a still young man sitting in a park in Salt Lake City in…

    Lou Faber

  • SCHRODINGER’S DREAM

    Inside the box the cat is alive and the cat is not alive but Schrodinger is dead or the idea of Schrodinger is dead. We walking into the store – he was sitting, rough hewn face in hands, staring at a table covering, ignoring our approach.  He barely looked up when we paid when the…

    Lou Faber

  • INDIGONE

    I have always wanted to walk into a store and buy a rainbow. I have seen rainbows in stores but never the one I want, one marked down because it is missing a color, perhaps indigo. How would we really know if indigo were truly missing?  Last week the clouds, the sun and a post-rain…

    Lou Faber

  • SEARCH

    The old, rotund monk is his gray robes stood outside Osaka Station gently swinging his small bell, chanting . A child of five tugged on his mother’s sleeve as she pulled him toward the subway. “Is he the Buddha” the boy asks, pulling back “No,” she said, “he is not though he searches each day…

    Lou Faber

  • STORY: FRAGMENT ONE

    “Look, I know it’s short notice, but I had to get away from the west coast. I was losing it so I threw my stuff into the van I bought and high-tailed it here.” “It’s not short notice, moron, it’s no notice at all. We aren’t even friends. Gloria’s my friend and according to her,…

    Lou Faber

  • ONE ROW OVER, TWO LIVES BACK

    I am somewhere southwest of Alaska, four hours outside Narita, and I notice him, three seats over and a row behind, a middle seat, yet the Buddha doesn’t seem to mind. He sits calmly sipping his Chivas and rubbing his round belly, his legs tucked neatly, lotus. He smiles at me, lifting his glass, “One…

    Lou Faber

  • USER INTERFACE

    U:        Cope I:          How? U:        Relax I:          Can’t U:        Why not? I:          No time U:        Make time I:          Takes too long U:        Better idea? I:          None! U:        Tried? I:          Can’t U:        Why not? I:          No time U:        What then? I:          No idea U:        Can’t help I:          Why not? U:        Tried I:          How? U:       …

    Lou Faber

  • THREE CONVERSATIONS WITH BUDDHA

    I   How do you make an axe handle if you have no axe? Sharpen your mind.   II   How do you hear a tree fall in the forest if you are in the city? Turn a deaf ear.   III   How do you find the path to enlightenment if you have no…

    Lou Faber