an old writer and his words

  • WRITTEN ON WATER

    Tomorrow this poem will most assuredly no lnger be here, though when during the night it will slip away, never again to be seen, I don’t know or perhaps it will return in a form I would not recognize, re-crafted by the hand of an unseen editor. It may take on a meaning unfamiliar, or…

    Lou Faber

  • SEKIKŌ’S SHORTCOMINGS 正法眼蔵 語十

    If you have no earlobes there will be nothing at all to hear. If he has no eyes, it is you who grow blind and your silence can drown his ceaseless tongue. The stick speaks louder than you both. A reflection on Case 50 of the Shobogenzo (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber

  • AUDIENS CAVE

    I just want you to know that the Old Man set me up, and I’ll admit that, cagey as I am, I never saw it coming. I mean I knew he was capable of anything, but he always adopted this holier than thou persona so why would I imagine He’d do this? And it wasn’t…

    Lou Faber

  • SENĀTUS POPULUSQUE RŌMĀNUS

    As we walked slowly through the Forum the Coliseum receding into the late afternoon, the Virgins stood patiently as befits a priestess trained to avoid the stares of passing men, even tourists such as we were, the columns staring down reminding us of our youth despite the birthdays that we celebrated with the joy of…

    Lou Faber

  • FUTURE HISTORY

    The history of modern literature, at least to those who purport to create it, is inextricably tied up with technology. The quill and inkwell ceded only reluctantly to the fountain pen and ballpoint. Foolscap was affixed to corkboard by countless pushpins, but one wasn’t a teal writer until one stuck in the sole of your…

    Lou Faber

  • EVERYWHERE BUT HERE OR THERE

    It is odd, when you stop and think about it, that our sense of place is dictated by places other then here. For centuries we were the center of the universe, and all celestial bodies moved around us — without us, no movement, but if t here were no suns, moons, planets or stars to…

    Lou Faber

  • NEXT QUESTION

    It was a short questionnaire, and he wasn’t sure why they had chosen him to answer, or for that matter, who they were. He was one to follow rules, so he sat down to complete it, they, whoever they were, said it would only take fifteen minutes. “Who is the one poet you would want…

    Lou Faber

  • HOJU TURNS HIS BACK 鐵笛倒吹 七十二

    If a beggar approaches do you turn away from him. If a rich man calls to you, do you receive him openly. How do you tell them apart? If a poor thief in fine, stolen silks stands before you what do you offer in welcome, and what for his battered victim now wearing the thief’s…

    Lou Faber

  • ALONG THE WAY

    They walk slowly, each step measured as to both length and cadence. The need not speak, they have long been synchronous, now cannot avoid being so without great effort. They say nothing, words have grown superfluous, and would only interrupt the slow procession of the clouds, the ducks swimming against the river’s flow, the birds…

    Lou Faber

  • ARF, HE SAID

    Growing up my family always had dogs, only one at a time, of course, since we were a modern suburban family, which may be why we had a dog. It clearly wasn’t because they loved dogs, they tolerated them on good days, ignored them the rest of the time and the good days were few…

    Lou Faber