an old writer and his words

  • THREE

    Ginkgo trees laden with leaves fanning the dawn sun Seeds lie in waiting The morning bell sounds the monks pause from their labors Buddha sits zazen The wall does not move only the breath is moving count it carefully

    Lou Faber

  • THE DAY AFTER*

    Today we only speak silently and know everyone hears. Today we cry only dry tears, and others gently wipe our eyes. Today we mourn what we fear is lost and together vow to retain it. Today the sun shines less brightly and we know the dark cloud will eventually pass. Today we hug, each to…

    Lou Faber

  • WINTER’S NIGHT

    A fog settles in over High Wycombe gray clouds shroud a full silver moon great beasts, sinews drawn tight, ready to spring forward, instead crawl along the motorway, the faint lights of London cast a glow to the sky, my breath seems phosphorescent, falling coating the grass, stiff in the breeze.

    Lou Faber

  • ADIRONDACK EVENING

    Atop the hill the trees are filigree against the fading light. The tents are fireflies twinkling as night reclaims the earth. I am caught up in the chill watching my breath kiss the stars. First Appeared in Blueline, Vol. 22, 2001. Reprinted in Legal Studies Forum, Vol. 29, No. 1, 2005

    Lou Faber

  • SEIJO’S SOUL 無門關 三十語

    Open your mouth and let your soul flee on the dance of your departing breath. Inhale slowly, let a different soul find purchase in your lungs. Both souls are your soul, neither soul is yours, but is it the moon or an obscuring cloud? A reflection on case 35 of the Mumonkan (Gateless Gate)

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT SONG

    The evening shows no reluctance in enveloping the dregs of the day, leaving a cool breath of promise. The clouds build in enveloping the moon half pillow, half shroud. Tomorrow is an empty promise that will accept what we offer or nothing at all, save the rain it will hold back another day. One star…

    Lou Faber

  • ROAD TRIP

    Two nights gone and sleep has come fitfully, and I stir each time I reach across the bed and you aren’t there, and there is only the faintest smell of bleach and cleaning solvent. I want very much to dream of you, to trace your cheek with dream fingers, to taste your lips on mine,…

    Lou Faber

  • LINJI WAS(N’T) HERE

    I very strongly doubt that Linji ever walked along this path, given that it wasn’t even here fifty years ago. He never saw the egret staring back across the pond, or the flock of ibis doing what seem like prostrations. He did not see any of this, which saddens me a great deal, but taking careful steps,…

    Lou Faber