an old writer and his words

  • AND TODAY?

    He walks with what he considers a swagger. He will gladly stare you in the eye, and you will look away. He prides himself on constancy, knowing you will arrive each day, knowing you will bring nothing in response to his request. He’ll turn his back on you and ignore you once again. Then he…

    Lou Faber

  • ON ROMULUS

    For years all I wanted was a working familial cloaking device. The kind the Romulans had in the early days of Star Fleet. It was easy to feel overwhelmed amid them, teaming together for holidays, reunions. I never could, I never did disappear though she felt my sometime silence oppressive. Now that I am part…

    Lou Faber

  • HOFUKU’S TEMPLE 鐵笛倒吹 語十一

    Standing outside the Temple there is much to see. Enter the Temple zendo prostrate three times before the golden Buddha what do you see? Can you see nothing? Outside the Temple, Buddha inside the Temple, Buddha but only when you see nothing. Outside the mind, nothing, inside the mind, nothing. All Buddha. A reflection on…

    Lou Faber

  • RETURNING

    Time has no role to play in any of this. Time isn’t pleased by the prospect, it prefers to be ever present, ever escaping, even as it is arriving. It is quirky that way. It is constant yet it loves to give the impression of being variable. Einstein noted this, and anyone returning from a…

    Lou Faber

  • GOING ON THIRTEEN

    He is four, has been for five months now, but when you ask them how old he will be at his next birthday he doesn’t pause, says, “thirteen,” with a smile that shouts, “yes I know how to count quite well, but sometimes I just choose not to!” He is slowing down, actually, the last…

    Lou Faber

  • Maximum Exposure

    She carefully hangs her life on the tautly stretched line across her small back yard. A sun faded floral housedress a pair of bib overalls knees worn white on the kitchen linoleum, cracked and dingy. She waits patiently for Humphrey Bogart to arrive and carry her up the river of her memory. The chicken threatens…

    Lou Faber

  • FESTIVAL

    They ebb and flow like tides down the half-empty street from venue to venue, many with that lost look of years in the desert, driven on by promised the land of honey notes, the mother’s milk of jazz. The event passes flap in the breeze created by their wake, some checking programs, their personal map…

    Lou Faber

  • A MEETING OF THIEVES

    The squirrel on the lawn stood, his little eyes boring into me as I stepped out of the front door. He threw out his chest, and I half expected him to beat on it with his forepaws, a rodent Tarzan. I, of course, had no choice but to stare back at him defiantly, making clear…

    Lou Faber

  • TOZAN’S THREE BASKETS 鐵笛倒吹 四十一

    Tozan said the whole of knowledge can be expressed in a single letter. Hakuun, the great Master set to writing verse. You, who hold the brush with shaking hand, what will you write in answer to Tozan. Think carefully of each stroke and imagine Joshu’s endless smile. A reflection on case 41 of the Iron…

    Lou Faber

  • AMONG THE MISSING

    We can sit for a time, and speak of our pains, how they cause us to stop and look inward while the world proceeds on it’s axis, in a slow march through time and space, and we share the anger and anguish of our too fallible bodies which time reclaims in slow progression. We do…

    Lou Faber