an old writer and his words

  • LOOKING

    As you look at him or herdo you see someone witha beauty you only wish you had,or someone you pityfor lacking your beauty? As they look at youdo they see someone witha beauty they only wish they hador someone they pityfor lacking their beauty? When I look at either of youI see a person like…

    Lou Faber

  • LIGHTS

    For eight days each Decemberthey call out to me as the flameof the candles flickers out,“Remember me” they say in unison,“remember me”, in the voice of the child,an old woman, in Yiddish,in Polish, German, Czech, Latt.I want to remember but I cannot seea face reduced to ash, blendedinto the earth of a farm field outside…

    Lou Faber

  • A TWISTED ROAD

    Walking down the helicalroad, untwisting as you goyou discover placesyou never imagingedvisiting, nothinglike the path youthought you knew well. Stop and claimyour new heritage,find yourselfon an alien map,bury yourself in booksof new and ancient history. Pause here and considera King of Scotland,knights and lords,in the far distanceknow that you claima link to a manso honored…

    Lou Faber

  • HEAVEN, UTAH

    We would sit around the small parkas evening made a hasty retreatto somewhere, anywhere more livelythan Salt Lake City in the heart of summer. We’d pass a jug of whatever wascheapest at the state package store,usuall Gallo this or that, and roll jointswhich made their way around our circle. The cops would drive by every…

    Lou Faber

  • KYOSEI’S STICK 鐵笛倒吹 六十四

    If Kyosei asksfrom where I have comehow will I answer him?If he asks wheremy teacher liveswhat will I tell him? Such a fool I amto wander from there to herefrom here to another placeseeking a pathon which Iam always standing still.Thirty blows isthe least I deserve.But Kyosei withdrawsthe stick. A reflection on Case 64 of…

    Lou Faber

  • GRAMMATICALLY APART

    What sets us apartfrom other specieshas little or nothingto do with self-awarenessand everything to dowith parts of speech. The birds outsidemy window shun labels,think only of eating,mating, flight, of goingand arriving, of being. They know nothing of birth,do not fear death, for itis merely a label they cannotaccept or understand. It is left to our…

    Lou Faber

  • SIREN SONG

    I should stand on the shoretake up a great shelland blow a trumpet songto the whales who stayalways just beyond sight. I have no shoreon which to standand had I one, I lackthe skill to plucka song from a shelland so the whalesI imagine offshoremust listen carefullyto the song I castdeep within my dreams.

    Lou Faber

  • FEEDER

    The seed specklesthe snow like buckshotpiled neatly under the branchwhere we, fingers numbed,tied the little chaletto the lowest limbof the ancient maple.The birds stand staringas the squirrel swingsslowly in the breeze. First Appeared in Echoes, March – April 1996.

    Lou Faber

  • TAILORING

    My adoptivegrandfather could take bitsof cloth, a needle, threadand with magiclygnarled fingerscreate a garmentfit for royalty, to be wornby the old womanliving in the walkup down the street. I take wordsbits of ideasand hope,and with manicured fingerscreate whatI can only hopepasses for poetryto be ignoredby thoseliving nearbyin my suburb.

    Lou Faber

  • SUIBI’S MEANING

    If you ask how can one find the wayI will take youinto the gardento look at the roses.Each rose isof a different sizeand color, but whichis of the right sizeand which the right shade? A reflection on Case 71 of the Shobogenzo (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber