an old writer and his words

  • ÁŁTSÉ HASHKÉ (THE TRICKSTER)

    The wind takes up voice as it caresses these mountains, it’s song a lullaby to the coyotes staring at the waning moon. When night grows darkest, they join in the song, a spirit kirtan they have practiced for centuries. Men stare nervously on the mesa at the stars providing faint light, the moon wrapping herself…

    Lou Faber

  • AN OFF YEAR

    The was a winter, once, where even in the north the snow refused to fall, ice rejected jamming the culverts, and the sky stared down in amazement. That was the year trees would not bud and flowers fled deeper into the sweetness of the earth, grass sighed and lay indolent. It was a year my…

    Lou Faber

  • BETWEEN

    Between now and then, between yesterday and today, between night and day, between birth and death, between good and evil, between heaven and hell, between light and dark, between joy and sadness, our lives occur and we are so seldom there to see it happen, lost in dreams of what never will be.

    Lou Faber

  • OMNIPOTENCE

    In my dream God came to me, said “look, I need a break, some real time away from the job, not just one day a week, where it’s all I can do to keep up, but a serious vacation, call it a Sabbatical if you want. I need someone to hold the fort and was…

    Lou Faber

  • ADOPTING A NEW SELF

    At some level, he always knew. It was what he hoped, but he had given up hope. He was glad when he was Portuguese, imagined himself on the beach at Estoril or Cascais. Imagination was free and unfettered, and he was a bronze god in those dreams, chiseled of flesh, wanted by all. You don’t…

    Lou Faber

  • SANSHU’S BLINDNESS 正法眼蔵 四十

    If you come forward and ask no question, the master will give you an answer, but if you approach with a question, the master will strike you with the stick. It is only when your eyes are blinded that you can take up the master’s staff and all is clearly seen.

    Lou Faber

  • MISSING

    Orion failed to appear last night which allowed the bears an evening of peace, certain they were not prey. They cavorted as bears are wont, to the pleasure of Cassiopeia. The lion stuck his head in, but lions know the bears need their space and anyway, they could see the dragon lurking on the horizon…

    Lou Faber

  • OH, UNSWEET ROSE

    There are days when nothing less than a full blown cliche will suffice, and any attempt at brevity will result in an utter and total failure and wit will mourn it soul. You might as well spit in the wind, because you simply cannot swim against that tide, and it and time will never wait…

    Lou Faber

  • GENETIC DREAMS

    The hardest part, surprisingly, is finding that one odd thread where you least expected, and following it back until it merges with another, and another still until you recognize that it is a weft, and the warp slowly becomes more apparent. Still it is nothing but carefully interwoven threads until you allow yourself to step…

    Lou Faber

  • THE FORM OF A POET

    It seems odd driving by Mount Hope Cemetery knowing Adelaide Crapsey’s grave is there. If Basho were there a much smaller grave would do under summer’s sun. Shakespeare is buried in Stratford-Upon-Avon so this can end with twelve lines to spare.

    Lou Faber