an old writer and his words

  • CITY OF (TRAFFIC) LIGHTS

    It is incredibly sadwhen all you have seenis Paris from a taxi hurtling towardthe center of the city, becauseyou are late for a meeting, and thenyour view out of the conference roomwindow is another glass buildingwhich, if you lean your headfar enough right gives youthe reflection of the Eiffel Tower. As the meeting drags onyou…

    Lou Faber

  • KISO CUTS A SNAKE 正法眼蔵 四十三

    Snakes, like coins,have both head and tail.If I cut a snake in two,have I two snakes,or none at all?Walk carefullyfor the spadethat cuts the snakecan dig an inescapable abyss. A reflection on case 43 of Dogen’s Shobogenzo Koans (True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber

  • CALLING

    In the dark heart of nighttime is suddenly frozen,the clock’s hands stalactitesand stalagmites, unyieldingdenying the approach of morning,leaving the sun imprisonedunder the watchful gazeof its celestial wardens. It is then you appear,call out to me, beg mebe silent, not askingthe lifetime of questionsI have accreted, providingmy own hopes andimagination for answers,but you have faces, notthose…

    Lou Faber

  • WINTER?

    In the early morning, beforeI open the blinds, beforethe sun approaches rising,I imagine the chill envelopingeverything outside, Octoberslipping quickly towardNovember, to the possibilityof rolling snake eyes, to snow. Winter always came that way,unannounced, and at leastby me, unwelcomed, thelast of the crimson, flameorange and ochre leavesdragged to the earthand buried ignominiously. But I know when…

    Lou Faber

  • ACUITY

    Acuity is such a strange word,sharp on the tongue andin meaning, but also a markof what once was, what willnever be again, replaced perhapsby a visual vacuity, comfortableword, no sharp edges, vagueimages floating behind a gauzeseeping slowly into a scrim,knowing the stage will soonenough go dark, despitethe ever brighter lighting.But replaced perhaps byever greater auditory…

    Lou Faber

  • REFLECTIONS

    An elk stands at the edgeof a placid mountain lakeand sees only the cloudsof an approaching winter.A black bear leans overthe mirrored surface of the lakeand sees only the fishthat will soon be his repast.The young man drapedin saffron robes lookscalmly into the water and seesa pebble, the spirit of his ancestors.I look carefully into…

    Lou Faber

  • CECI N’EST PAS

    This morning the skyis a painting by Magritteas it is most days, no titleCeci n’est pas un ciel. The birds rise fromthe wetland as Escherwould imagine them,the small wetlandonce a place thatmight be painted byMonet on a day whenhe cared nothingfor water lillies, but nowa jungle of Gauguin. We wait for the returnof the flocks…

    Lou Faber

  • EFFECT

    The morning was indistinguishable from so many others. Lorenz was taking his morning walk around the pond or lake, it was of that intermediate size that could be either or neither, when in a break with his habit, he sat down on one of the four benches, and stared out over the water. He hadn’t…

    Lou Faber

  • KYOSEI’S BUDDHADHARMA 正法眼蔵 三十九

    If you ask whenis the best timeto seek wisdom Iwill tell youat the stroke of midnightand I will walkon a lighter left foot.If you ask the next daywhen is the best timeto seek wisdomI will tell youat highest noonand I will walkon a lighter right foot. A reflection on Case 39 of Dogen’s Shoboganzo Koans…

    Lou Faber

  • YOU, REALLY

    Would it surprise you to learnthat like most writers, Ihave spent more than a littleguilty time trying to imaginewhat you look like, what you knowyou should be doingwhile you are reading this poem. And I do wish I couild seeyour face as you read it, knowingit is a conversation whereyou want to speak, to tell…

    Lou Faber