an old writer and his words

  • CABERNET

    Sitting at the table lookingat a glass of cabernet sauvignonits legs long reaching from rimto dwindling pool I ask myselfif I could imagine tending the vinesin France or more likely Napawatching the purple orbs take formand cluster, caring for the canesthat have deemed themselvestoo old to bear any longer.My knees are tired and dirtycutting the…

    Lou Faber

  • BEAUTY

    The rose no more knowsits own beautythan the chrysanthemumdoes its scent.The birds will carry the seeds,the bees will pollinate the flowersbut it is left to usto recognize the abject beautynature willingly unfoldsbefore us, it is ourEden, small momentsof perfection which weso often ignore, which weunthinkingly lay waste to,and we who must learnto mourn what we…

    Lou Faber

  • IN MY MOTHER’S HOUSE

    In my mother’s housethe refrigerator was dottedby little plastic fruitand the phone numberof a plumber we had once used,my sisters latest drawingpresaging a careerin health service managementa shopping listand my brother’s report cardshowing exemplary effortbut a weakness in spellingand my upcoming appointmentat the orthodontist. In my housethe refrigerator is dottedwith little wordsfrom Shakespeareand Chaucerand those…

    Lou Faber

  • CHANGES

    Each morning after arisingI look in the mirrorI imagine everything is the same as the day beforeI imagine everything has changedf rom the day before.I do ask the mirror what itbelieves has changed, what itbelieves has stayed the same.Most days it says nothing, merelystares back at me, mocking.Occasionally the mirror will concedethat it is another…

    Lou Faber

  • DRY FEET

    My Buddhist teachers saythat you cannot stepinto the same river twice.I am not one for steppinginto rivers at all, havingas a child done so andslipping on a smooth rockfalling and bruising my thigh.It was more of a creekand I should have seenthe slime on the rockbut a child is more interestedin what lies ahead and…

    Lou Faber

  • PUHUA KNOCKS OVER A TABLE

    While you are on the cushionif your teacher stoopsto ask you how is your sittingdo you say it is goodor it is not good?The teacher will smirkat either answer forthere are no good sittingsor bad sittings,there is only sitting. A reflection on Case 96 of Dogen’s Shobogenzo Koans (True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber

  • EVER PATIENT

    Fuji-san, its snow cap slowly retreating,smiles down on the ever goldening rice shoots.The holy mountain pays no notice to the Shinkansenhurtling its way from Tokyo to Osakanot pausing to pay homage to the godswho inhabit the venerable volcano and whohave grown tired awaiting the favor of thoserushing, always rushing, to be somewhere else.Fuji-san knows that…

    Lou Faber

  • COLLEGE DAYS

    All these years later he still could not fathom why he had done it. It wasn’t something he had thought about doing, but one day he just did it, showed up and got the gig on the carrier current station that reached 96% of the campus. On a good day. But he liked it and…

    Lou Faber

  • I QUIT

    Nature joined me uninvited this morningas I sat on the lanai overlooking whatonce was a bird filled wetland, now grownover with Carolina willow andthe too frequent Brazilian Cherry.“The birds have given up on you,”I thought I heard nature say, “I supposeyou miss them?”. “Terribly,” I said“for they were a part of me that hasnow withered…

    Lou Faber

  • CONDEMNED

    He wondered if the moon this nightwould concede the sky to dawn, orwould simply be his final sight, nothing, he knew, could change his plightthey would be knocking on his door.He wondered if the moon this night knew that his crime had been to writethe truth of war, that his cell doorwould simply be his…

    Lou Faber