an old writer and his words

  • AFOOT, A CITY

    As you walk the streetsof a city like New York,you hear a polyglot of languages,and closing your eyes youmight have no idea where you were. Listen carefully, eavesdropon conversations, imagine the storiesthey are telling, the joysand heartbreak laid bare before you,half heard, half filled into make the story palatable to you. Life in the city…

    Lou Faber

  • ODE TO PATIENCE

    The jetty is replete todaywith tourists, pale as the sunbleached concrete, stoppingto gawk at the fishermenwho ignore them intenton watching the sadly still line. The pelicans sit on the rocksgrooming and posing, talkingloudly on occasion beforespreading wings and flying off.Out on the jetty a pelican waitspatiently for the fishermanto pack up for the day, knowinghe…

    Lou Faber

  • SLEEVE

    I wear my hearton my sleeve, he said,so you know what I’mfeeling at any given momentand I am an open bookso you can read my thoughtswhenever you wish to do so. His smile said he wasproud of this state,and he did say it sethim apart from most people. She laughed and saidto him, “But you…

    Lou Faber

  • AT FIRST

    The first timeI heard itI knewthat voicecame from a placeI had never visited,would neverbe able to go. It penetrated mereverberatedwithin mea harmonicthat shookme to my core. She reachedand graspedwhat I thoughtI had kept hidden,and as I dancedwith mynew bride,I knew Ettahad led meto loveAt Last.

    Lou Faber

  • LACKLAND

    They marched us to the middleof nowhere, sweat running downour backs, our olive drab uniformsnow three shades darker. They handed us a rifle, an M-16they told us in class, with a 5.56round, it would tumble afterit hit its target, good for killing. We lay on the ground, shoulderedthe weapon, aimed it at thetarget, a bottomless…

    Lou Faber

  • NONATTACHMENT

    There was the collectivist period,those years when I wanteda copy of every book on BuddhismI could locate, a full and nearlycomplete library, sutras andphilosophical discourses included. There was the moment when Irealized the absurdity of all that,the attachment to textsto enable me to find the abilityto practice non-attachment,and I gave the books away,and finally set…

    Lou Faber

  • TWILIGHT

    In the twilight of the dove,that moment when the sun’sretreat has only just begunmy shadow stretchesever so slowly into oblivion. I hear it whisper to mea promise to return and Iwant nothing more thanto believe it, for the grantof another day is a smallwish granted, one I makewith the knowledge thatthe genie of age is…

    Lou Faber

  • UMMON’S MOUNT SUMERU

    When you ask your teacherwhat happens when youstop thinking, allowno new thoughtswhat you expect himto tell you? The dead have no thoughtsbut that is not the doorto Nirvana. But if thoughts abandon youwithout your effort, withoutbeing asked to do so,then the door you seekwill open before you. A reflection on case 19 of the Book…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE HORIZON

    In crossing the event horizondualities collapse and crumble.God and Satan are again mergedinto a unity, pressed into diamondits glint that of a thousand suns. We follow as we must, for nowthere is neither good nor evil,there merely is, and we have foundthe path we have been seekingon the road to our sigularity.

    Lou Faber

  • SCHMUTZ

    Looking out the windowI quickly realize that the windowneeds cleaning, and thenthat the red-shouldered hawkin the nearby tree is carefullystaring back at me. I want to know whatthe hawk is thinking, perhapsthat I am possible prey, ormore likely wondering whyI am so foolish as to livein a strangely large box. The hawk, of course, iswondering…

    Lou Faber