an old writer and his words

  • INTIMATIONS OF MORTALITY

    It is easier to think about deathon a wintery evening, when so muchof life slips into stasis, and there isnothing to do but concede your mortality,and with good fortune, then slipinto sleep before being lostin a sea of depression. I must be thankful for my dreamsfor they keep the night from becomingthe little death of…

    Lou Faber

  • SEPPO SEES HIS NATURE 鐵笛倒吹 三十四

    Do not imagine yourselfShravaka or Boddhisatvanor ask the Masterif his reflection isthe fullest moon or bright sun. Both stick and slapawaken youand clear your sight. The Master’s eyesare blind to youand your reflectioncan only be seenby looking within. A reflection on case 34 of the Iron Flute Koans.

    Lou Faber

  • LEX

    Well before there wasAristotle, there was aa,which comes as no surpriseto geologists who neverdoubted the historyand creation ofthis planet. Well after the zebrathere was the zygote,which a biologistwould tell youis putting the cartwell before the horse. The lexicographer will saythat he did not createthis disconnect, for heor she is a mere recorder,so you’d have to…

    Lou Faber

  • 詩

    The Japanese inventedhaiku certain that a paintingof great beauty couldbe completed with onlya few strokes of the brush. The Japanese have no wordfor what we claim is higherorder poetry, academic andpedantic are two other Englishwords which easily apply.And the Japanese are hard putto comprehend so much of whatwe deem experimental, the result,a friend named Yoshi…

    Lou Faber

  • PERCUSSION

    After years of going to live jazzI’ve honed my skills to a fine level.I still know next to nothingabout the intricacies of the music,five years of classical piano andI barely understand Bach and Mozart. But I know where to look, whobears watching in the combo,and it isn’t the trumpeter, hewith his ballooning cheeks, someclownish bellows,…

    Lou Faber

  • INSIDE THE PAGE

    She asks innocently,listening to the wind whisperingthrough the bare branches of the oak,“How long have you livedin this poem,” pointingto the page of markedand remarked typescript.He looks at her as if discoveringshe’d grown another head,peeking out from betweenher well-polished teeth.“I have no idea what you mean,”he says, “I write the poems—it is up to you…

    Lou Faber

  • AN AFTERNOON STROLL

    There are three of themand they walk slowly along the sideof the road, proud yes, but are theyold men who see no need to hurry,or self-assumed royalty who dare not. Nor is it clear if they are the samegroup who gathered outsidethe ornate gateway into PGA Villagetwo weeks ago, perhaps tired ofthe endless greens fees…

    Lou Faber

  • ROADS

    The problem with roadsis that they all must leadsomewhere, and if lucky, withother theres along the way. I prefer roads that haveno beginnings or ends,that go where they willand change direction on a whim. On my roads you neverarrive late because thereis no point at which to arrive,so you are always timely. Friends laugh when…

    Lou Faber

  • TOZAN’S DHARMA BODIES 正法眼蔵 語十語

    If I ask you“does a circlehave both insideand outside,” what do you say.If you cut it intothree pieces, whichhas inside, which outsideand what of the third? A reflection on Case 55 of the True Dharma Eye (Shobogenzo) Koans

    Lou Faber

  • FOR NOW

    Tomorrow this poem willmost assuredly no longer be here,though when during the nightit will slip away, never againto be seen, I don’t know or perhaps itwill return in a form I would not recognize,recrafted by the hand of an unseen editor. It may take on a meaning unfamiliar,or translate itself into a tonguethat I can…

    Lou Faber