an old writer and his words

  • SHE

    She surely should have known better. Selling sea shells by the sea shore is a short sighted career path. Anyone can pick up the shells on the seashore, selling shells is simply silly, and she should see that. But each day she sets up her stand, sets out the shells, and sits waiting to see…

    Lou Faber

  • A CAPPING VERSE

    Snow always seemed so rightcapping the summit of Fujiyama,not dulled by the windowsof the Shinkansen to Osaka. You barely noticed the rice fieldsfanning out from its basewanted to reach out and touch itfor that is what you do with icons. Mount Hood had the same effectbut the chill along the Willametteurged you to retreat quickly…

    Lou Faber

  • BOKUSHU’S BLOCKHEAD 鐵笛倒吹 語十語

    Seeing your teacher on the roadif he says to youHonorable Sir, what do you do?You may turn, bow, and act the foolor pass, eyes avertedwithout acknowledgement, silentequally the fool. Speak in silence,face, bow without movinggreet him as you do yourselfin the morning mirrorand once past, offer gasshoand the fool is left on the pathdragging your…

    Lou Faber

  • PLAYERS

    Last night the actorstrod the boardscarrying us on their backs.This wasn’t Pittsburghbut we believed it so.We’ve never been to the Hillbut we walked its blighted streets.In the mirror we are white,but not last evening.He is five years deadbut last nightAugust Wilson escorted usto a placewe had never imagined,and we were alltoo glad to visit.

    Lou Faber

  • AND CUT

    It is a sad fact of life that Floridahas disqualified itself as a movie setfor a vast number of filmsthat will now go before the cameraon the streets of some Canadian city. No one is making films aboutdrug runners coming ashore inteal and pink with a soundtrackby Jan Hammer, since the illicitdrug of the moment…

    Lou Faber

  • AUDITIONS DAILY

    It should be easy, my friend said,to imagine yourself a characterin a novel you particularly like,like I’ve found myself in any numberof Tom Clancy novels, since I caneasily become a CIA agent, it fits me. I know I’d shoot myself in the footor worse, and I’d keep no secretsif you even threatened to torture me,and…

    Lou Faber

  • MOVING

    When we tell friendsand acquaintances that weare moving up the coast,they look at us quizzically. We think they wonder whywe are leaving our friends,a world we have come to know,for a place so alien to us. We tell them that was by farthe hardest part, letting goof those we treasure, hopingthey will soon come to…

    Lou Faber

  • A DEAFENING SILENCE

    Sitting in stillness, the silenceis at first shocking, deafeningin a way unimagined but there. Within the lack of sound liesa thousand sounds you hadnever heard in the din of life. You hear the young monk at Senso-jiapproach the great bell and pullback on the log shu-moku, straining. You hear the laugh of school agedchildren hand…

    Lou Faber

  • KENSHO

    Tonight, if all goes well, I will bea monk in a good-sized Buddhist temple.I am hoping it will be in Nara,at Todai-ji perhaps, or Asakusaat Senso-ji, or better still somewherein Kyoto, although it might well bein the Myanmar jungle or somewheredeep within the Laotian highlands. One problem with that world isthat I have no control…

    Lou Faber

  • FOOTHILLS

    The clouds well upover the foothillscasting a gray pall,bearing the angry spiritsof the chindi who danceamid the scrub juniper.Brother Serra, was thiswhat you found, wanderingalong the coast, tendingthe odd sheep, Indianand whatever elsecrossed your path? The blue birdhopping across the dried grassespuffing its grey breastplate and capesitting back, its long tail feathersa perfect counterbalance.It stares…

    Lou Faber