an old writer and his words

  • SHEEPISH

    As a child, when Ihad trouble falling asleepmy mother would trot outthe ancient saw and tell meto just count sheep. I tried to point outto her that we livedin an upscale suburband there were no sheepfor miles for me to count. This hardly deterred herand she repeated herdirections, in a strongertone of voice that she…

    Lou Faber

  • CHATTER

    The cat tells me thatlong after we have goneto bed for the night shehears the argumentsof the authors of the bookslining our living room shelves. The poets, she says, quibbleover rhyme and meter, claimthis one is academic, thatone merely skilled in doggerel. And don’t, she adds, get herstarted on the Buddhistauthors, who argue endlesslyover their…

    Lou Faber

  • THREE WORDS ARE MIND

    If you stareat a large stoneand call it a mountainthe ant will agree with you.If you gaze on a mountainand call it a stonethere can be no argument.If I call that treea toothpickclean your teeth carefully. A reflection on Case 112 of Dogen’s Shobogenzo (True Dharma Eye) Koans

    Lou Faber