an old writer and his words

  • SWAN DIVE

    Its plump, dusty-white feathered bodysits atop the pond like an invertediceberg, as the lindens fringing the fieldshed their seeds onto the hardened soil.The swan lumbers across the surfacewith no particular urgency or directionslowed by the entropy of a late August afternoon,the laughed shouts of childrenplunging headlong to dinner,diverted to bathroomsfor the cursory sprinklingof unholy water,the…

    Lou Faber

  • ROBO

    The phone is again ringing,and the odds say it is someonewho wants to extend my warrantyon the car I no longer own, or to lower my credit card interestthough I never carry a balance,or to help me fix my computer if Ijust hand over control to them. I won’t answer this time, almostnever do unless…

    Lou Faber

  • CALL AGAIN

    You called again this morning, and,as usual, long before I was awake.You left no message, but you never do,and I do wish you’d stay in one place just for a while, it would make findingyou to speak with you much easier.This morning you were in Azerbaijan,and last week you called from Belarus. Later today you…

    Lou Faber

  • DUGO AND UNGAN MEET

    When your mind is ragingthoughts flowing, eddyingwhen you enter the zendowhat do you do in sitting? Do you take your stickand measure the waterto insure a safe fording,or do you sit amid the streamand let the floodwash over and around youdry and silent within? A reflection on Case 36 of the Iron Flute Koans

    Lou Faber

  • PAYING HOMAGE

    No one thinks it all that strangethat novels featuring James Bondappeared well after Ian Flemingagain made acquaintance with the soil. Nor are we shocked that Conan Doylehas seemingly taken up pen againand brought Holmes back to life,although many find those efforts regrettable. And yet when I take pen to paperand cast line upon line of…

    Lou Faber

  • PARTY

    In my dreams I am invitedto an almost endless cycleof parties where I always fit inand share attention as I give it. It’s different in my day life, whereI draw only the occasional invitation,and then usually as the plus one,and I am expert at finding corners, where I can be observer, notobserved, and need not…

    Lou Faber

  • AGAIN THE DREAM

    The dream came to him again last night. He could never be certain if it was on the barren high mesa outside Taos or in the endless sands of Morocco. It really didn’t matter, since the action of the dream took place in a restaurant, and its location was ambiance, although he suspected it did…

    Lou Faber

  • TUESDAY TRUTH: THE SPIDER

    Several things you need to understand. First, and foremost, a waterspout is a term no one around here has used in centuries, unless you mean a tornadic columnar vortex of water, and trust me, we spiders avoid those like the plague. Shocking, I know, but with eight legs we cannot swim. At best some of…

    Lou Faber

  • SEPPO REJECTS A MONK 鐵笛倒吹 七十三

    If you find the answer and rush to tell your teacher why are you surprised when he turns away from you, saying that is yesterday’s answer. If you want to impress your teacher paint the answer on the surface of the raging river or accept scorn with equanimity. A reflection on case 73 of the…

    Lou Faber

  • RIDING THE WASTELAND

    We set out with bold ambition, egos saddled and reined across a landscape left barren by our leaders who saw only carefully stacked boards and beams awaiting the master carpenter, great floral sprays dotting the lobbies of glass and chrome edifices, created in their own images. We ride in search of the promised land, and…

    Lou Faber