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TOZAN’S DHARMA BODIES 法眼蔵 語十語
If I ask you “Does a circle have both inside and outside?” what do you say? If you cut it into three pieces, which has inside, which has outside and what of the third? A reflection on case 55 of the Shobogenzo (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)
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APPEARANCE IN PEACOCK JOURNAL
This isn’t my usual post. It’s the second of the day, and it’s a gentle self-promotion. Three of my poems have just appeared in Peacock Journal. My work appears at this link: http://peacockjournal.com/louis-faber-three-poems/ I found Peacock Journal thanks to a dear friend (and marvelous writer) Anne Michael. Her blog (https://annemichael.wordpress.com/) is a joy to…
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TIME
There is never sufficient time no matter how I adjust the clocks, he said with a profound sadness. What, she said, would happen if you did not consult the clocks, would there be time enough then? But how would I know if there were time enough without clocks, he replied. The cat watched this scene,…
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TRYPTICH (HAIKU
shout Yuki Onna I have wandered from my course snow piles at my feet gold Chrysanthemum blooms bright in the summer sun pure water of life a pebble is plucked from the lake, ripples move in, singularity.
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CASSIOPEIA
You sit on your self-hewn throne and stare fixedly at the night sky as the clouds gather and dissipate beneath you. Do you even recall why you were cast out condemned to your cell so vast and yet infinitely confining? Does your body remember the touch of his hand the crude hunter who set you…
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PRACTICE (TANKA)
In the Buddha Hall autumn daylight filters through the half closed windows. In the garden, Kannon stoops to pick up a fallen leaf.
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LETTING GO
Roshi left last week sitting in the garden of the Zen Center, there then not there, as though he let go his 91 year grasp knowing somehow, it was the right moment. He left so quietly those around him did not hear him depart. Half a lifetime ago I sat at his feet, unable to…
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TE SHAN CARRYING HIS BUNDLE
Enter the room slowly and look carefully, since you are here to find something. There is much within this room, but you can see nothing save the old man, sitting calmly, staring at nothing, staring through you at nothing in particular. You know he is the teacher, the one for whom you have been searching,…
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BIG ISLAND
It is his hands you notice first – dark fingers bent and gnarled, several banded in silver, knuckles scratched by the cat curled at his feet, the tip of his index finger sacrificed to a distraction and the saw, untrimmed nails, rough, ragged a torn cuticle, liver spot rubbed raw. The fingers curl gently around the…
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DEMONS
In the night there are no demons, just the sound of your breathing, and your soft touch on my back, your foot against my calf.
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an old writer and his words 