an old writer and his words

  • DISCOVERY

    In a small storefront, in an older neighborhood of the city, I found it.  Sepia coated with a fine sheen of dust and neglect, it lay on the table amid a stack of others, as though a leaf of phyllo in a poorly made stack fresh from the oven.  I knew it as I looked…

    Lou Faber

  • MANDALA

    Day one, and they are hunched over the mat meticulously drawing faintly on its deep blue surface. Day two and sitting, leaning forward they precisely place the first grains of sand. Day three, the same and the picture begins to emerge though they dare not breathe. Day upon day, minute upon minute hours on end…

    Lou Faber

  • CASTLE HARLECH

    High on the battlements of Castle Harlech the winter wind cuts through me like scythes slashing the grasses in the meadows that roll out toward the distant, mute hills. The plaintive cry of bowmen whose bones are dust taken deep into the Welsh soil are whispers lost in the wing sweep of the circling starlings.…

    Lou Faber

  • TAIGEN FANS HIMSELF 正法眼蔵 三十二

    When a leaf leaves the tree it falls precisely where it should. When a flower petal is carried off on a strong wind it comes to rest in the proper place. When you smell the sweet aroma of next summer’s roses you must use the nose you had before your parents were born. A reflection…

    Lou Faber

  • SIRIUS

    Sirius, you arise each evening. Your braying washes the night sky, as though to daunt us. There was a time we stood in simple awe having no idea how far away you skulked or of your immenseness, a cold dark point that could barely illumine our occasional thought. Hawking sits pressed into his chair held…

    Lou Faber

  • SOZAN’S FALLING AND RISING 正法眼蔵 三十三

    When you fall earth on one side sky the other. When you rise, earth on one side sky the other. When there is no falling, no sky, no earth, when there is no rising no earth, no sky. Sky and earth do not stand still. Reflecting on case 33 of the Shobogenzo

    Lou Faber

  • MISSING

    Orion failed to appear last night which allowed the bears an evening of peace, certain they were not prey. They cavorted as bears are wont, to the pleasure of Cassiopeia. The lion stuck his head in, but lions know the bears need their space and anyway, they could see the dragon lurking on the horizon…

    Lou Faber

  • THE FORM OF A POET

    It seems odd driving by Mount Hope Cemetery knowing Adelaide Crapsey’s grave is there. If Basho were there a much smaller grave would do under summer’s sun. Shakespeare is buried in Stratford-Upon-Avon so this can end with twelve lines to spare.

    Lou Faber

  • PROGRESSION

    It is between the pushing away in the pulling back that it happens. It is there that the seasons progress, one to the next. Winter cedes to spring and is, ever reluctantly, replaced by summer. It is there, as well, that the leaf emerges from the bud and reaches into the sky. And feeling the…

    Lou Faber

  • NATURE’S PROPHET

    He sits still demanding your attention. He stares at you with green eyes and a defiant look, saying you are a visitor here, this is our world so do not abuse your privilege of sharing this space with us. We were here long before you arrived and our kind will be here long after you…

    Lou Faber