an old writer and his words

  • THEN, NOW

    It was easier then, so let’sgo there, the spring of 1970,the location is less important,so long as it’s a coffee housewhere those barely old enoughto drink, or barely short of thatage congregate, waiting forsomething to happen or, Iseriously hoped, someone,someone with little hair, butwho carried James Joyce inhis jeans pocket, Portrait ofthe Artist the only…

    Lou Faber

  • READY, FIRE, AIM

    He should have knownthat the day was doomedfrom the moment he woketo see his alarm clock in pieceson the floor by his bed, the catgrinning at him from the placewhere the clock had always sat. Finally arriving at the office,he was no sooner at his deskwhen the fire alarm bell rang.Within moments of reenteringafter the…

    Lou Faber

  • NANSEN’S NOTHING SPECIAL

    Her greetingis met with silence.His greetingis met with silence.Your touchis met with greeting.You want to fly,curse the Earthfor holding you,while it is your mindthat is youronly anchor. A reflection on case 87 of the Shobogenzo, Dogen’s True Dharma Eye Koans

    Lou Faber

  • PENNED IN

    He stares at the collectionof pens crammed tightly intoa coffee mug whose handlehad long since broken away. He knows some are dead,awaiting a proper burial,following a brief memorialservice paying homageto their illustrious past. He is certain that oneor more is secretly harboringthe poem or story that hehas been meaning to write,the one that the journalon…

    Lou Faber

  • POSTDICTIONS

    In the beginning there wasa void, stasis, dimensionless.I am a point, without sizetaking form only in motion,so too the seat on whichI sit on United flight 951not going from point Ato point B for neithercan exist in motiontranscending time. Each decision setsone me on a path, intoa dimension, dimensionswhile I tread a different pathand I…

    Lou Faber

  • CASSIOPEIA

    You sit on your self-made throneand stare at the night skyas clouds gatherand dissipate beneath you.Do you even recallwhy you were cast out,condemned to your cell so vastyet infinitely confining?Does your body rememberthe touch of his handthe crude hunterwho set you aflamewith a white heatthat paled the sun of summer?What do you imagineas tongues of…

    Lou Faber

  • RINZAI’S REAL EYE 鐵笛倒吹 九十語

    You say there area thousand waysof seeing this momentbut which is the real way?I respond there area thousand waysof seeing this momentbut which is the real way? You may take my place,you may lookthrough my eyes,but you will stillbe blindto this momentor that. A reflection on Case 95 of the Iron Flute Koans

    Lou Faber

  • A PRAYER UNANSWERED

    When I was a child, a Rabbi told methat I did have the ability,to be used sparingly always,to petition God for some good. I filed this away with other storiesfrom the Torah, pillars of salt,stone tablets, a flood worse thanthe one that filled our basement. At some point I needed something,recollections are fortunately vaguenow, and…

    Lou Faber

  • MONOLOGUE

    I would like nothing more thanto have a long conversation with the birds,that there is much they could tell me,much they know that I should understandbut I am the interloper here, and theyhave lost trust in my kind. I watch them closely, trying to discern what I can of their thoughts,but in a flash of wing,…

    Lou Faber

  • WE ARE IN KANSAS, TOTO

    In my dream, the worldwas at peace, and I was ridingacross Kansas on a unicycle, towingmy car, packed to the windows,my dog walking alongside urgingme to speed up because shewanted to visit South Dakota.I am due for a tricycle, Iremind the dog, “the gravemore likely,” she respondswith a sneer that teeters betweenlove and spite, always…

    Lou Faber