an old writer and his words

  • KNOWING

    It is now a given that youwill always want to know morefor that is human nature, which isto say an intellectual greed.It is not a deadly sin, butit did get Adam and Evekicked out of Eden, sobe careful for what you ask.What you don’t consideris what you might do withthe information, the moreif you were…

    Lou Faber

  • WHAT ONCE WAS

    It will never again be the same,the world we knew has grownashen, washed of color, our visionmonochromatic, our ears deaf.We have engineered this in our blindness,unable to see the corrosion wehave loosed, we are Pandora, welet free the lid of the box, our greedmet by the ghosts of those wehave condemned, those yetto be born,…

    Lou Faber

  • RADIOACTIVE

    I cannot say for certain which dayI became the familial isotope,but I know my parents beganaccreting neutrons not longafter their marriage, boundto their mutual core, unboundfrom me, adopted into the family,and I then became the isotopeof the family but remote,easily enough forgotten,when I was not present.That is, I suppose, one possiblefate for an isotope, it’s…

    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

  • 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

  • AFTERLIFE

    In the farthest reachesof the afterlife, the old mengather each day, althoughday and night are meaninglessto them, just assignedfor purposes of the writer. The Buddha recites sutrashoping the others willbe in the moment with him,while Hillel smiles, standson one foot and dreamsof a lean pastrami on ryewith a slice of half sour. Christ muses on…

    Lou Faber

  • THE FIRE THIS TIME

    He said he did not want a funeral, certainly did not want to be buried. It would be a waste of wood and metal, and its only purpose would be to enrich the mortician and it is not like he will run out of customers any time in the near future. Not, at least, until…

    Lou Faber

  • JOSHU’S DOG

    Joshu’s dogand Schrodinger’s cat-are they oneand the same?Leave the lidon the boxof the mind.What isthe half lifeof a thought? A reflection on Cse 114 of teh Shobogenzo (Dogne’s True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber

  • THE SUN ROSE

    The sun rose this morning,as if the day were not in anyway out of the ordinary, daynumber far too large to countfor those with finite capacity. The birds begin, their harmoniouscacophony, though they thinkit their lauds, matins of reflectionburned off with the dew underthe gentle glare of a morning sun. They watch us begin to…

    Lou Faber

  • MU

    If you ask me whether a dog has buddha nature I will stare back at you in total silence. If you ask again, or implore an answer I will smile at you, offer gassho and a bow. If you ask yet again, I will turn away and you will be left with a box into…

    Lou Faber