an old writer and his words

  • JEALOUSY (AGAIN)

    We are jealous of trees,anchored as we areto a grasping earth,able to tear free onlymomentarily or withthe help of machines, for trees can approachthe clouds, swaddleall manner of birds,and, we are certain,know heaven moreintimately than we can. And trees are jealousof birds, able to flywell above their highestbranches, knowingthe true blue of the skyand the…

    Lou Faber

  • MID MORNING SONG

    He leans against the walloutside the Prêt à Mangerwitting with his dogon the old Mexican blanketsthat look uniquely out of placeon a cool London morning.He sips the now fetid coffeein its Styrofoam cup,its Burger King logoand temperature warning.His hair is long, mostlygray with streaks of white,his beard whitewith swaths of blond, helooks as though hejust…

    Lou Faber

  • HARLECH CASTLE

    I stood on the rampartsthat cold, wet morninglooking out over the waitingIrish Sea, this day offeringonly rain and a November chill. Write haiku, she said to usand I thought of Bashoand Issu who never stoodon a 13th Century Welshfortress and never imaginedwriting about Llywelyngreat or not nearly so. In the rain and chillI scribbled furiously,retreated…

    Lou Faber

  • CHASING NO MORE

    I have to admit that Iloved the Grateful Deadsaw them in concert when I could,listened often but could neverbe considered a Deadhead. Years later my sons and Iloved Moxy Früvous andtraveled to nearby shows,bought every album, playedthem to death so we werejustifiably FrüHeads. But time has passed, that bandis now gone as well, and Ihave…

    Lou Faber

  • SOZAN’S RAISING LIVESTOCK

    In an open fieldif I come upona wild oxand place a yokeon its neck.Is it the yokeor the oxor is it Ithat is tamed? A reflection on Case 70 of Dogen’s Shobogenzo Koans (True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber

  • POSER

    For unknown reasons Iwas told I was going tosit for a portrait by a wellknown local artist. It was a gift, so I hadlittle choice but to accept,and so I sat on a chairfrozen in place. I asked how long itwould take and he replied“Not more than four sittingsand then I can go to work.”…

    Lou Faber

  • MY RABBI (PART 2)

    I tell him I am thinking of becominga rabbi, someone just like him,a man who saw so many throughall manner of crises, joyous events. He sits back in his unsteady chair,one he refuses to replace, this onefinally broken in, he says with thatgentle smile that melts anger, anxiety. You would do well at it, I…

    Lou Faber

  • MY RABBI (PART 1)

    If you ask why I am a BuddhistI will tell you there are a myriadof possible reasons, choose one,or take this one, it fits nicely. I am in college, pulling my gradesup to mediocre, thoughts of medicinegone, law only faint on a distant horizona master’s degree away. I visit my childhood rabbi, a manwho has…

    Lou Faber

  • SMALL REFLECTION

    It is that moment when the moonis a glaring crescent,slowly engulfed bythe impending night—when the few clouds give outtheir fading glowin the jaundiced lightof the sodium arc street lamp.It nestles the curb—at first a small bird—when touched, a twisted piece of root. I want to walk into the weed-strewnaging cemetery, stand in the shadowof the…

    Lou Faber

  • MACHISMO

    He was fond of sayingthat men need to toughen up,show more fortitude, taketime for serious male bonding. He would prattle on abouthow so many men werenot true men anymore,warped by modern society. I tried my best to avoid him,to quickly end our encounters andwhen I could not, for he wouldinevitably complain of loneliness. Still, I…

    Lou Faber