an old writer and his words

  • WE COULD

    We could, if you want,sit in the park on our foldingchairs or better a folded blanketand stare out over the pond,its silver surface shirredby a midday breeze. We could picnic, sandwichesof brie and apples, or for ushummous with tahini anda bottle of chardonnay, carefullypoured into plastic glassesimagining themseles crystal. The dragonflies would ignore us,busy doing…

    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

  • HOME, NIGHT

    Living in a bamboo grove, she said,is very much like living in an old house. Look up at noon, into the canopyand imagine you see rays of lightpiercing the ill-thatched roof. Listen to the growling winds of autumnand hear the ghosts of the old housemaking their way up creaking stairs. And when you truly find…

    Lou Faber

  • STARING

    He liked nothing betterthen to sit outsidehis small cottageand stare into the pondonce the blaze on the waterset by the sun was consumedas fire must always be by water.As night deepened, he staredinto the sky, seeing the moonslowly rise, chasing alongthe sun’s now deserted path.He knew the myriad of starsshared his interest, staringbut he abandoned…

    Lou Faber

  • A MOVING MIND 無門關 二十九

    Do not be a foolish monk stare up at the sky is that could moving? The leaves dance on the morning breeze, is the wind moving? take a picture of the tree a moment of time frozen There is no motion of the tree, none of the wind only the mind moves. A reflection on…

    Lou Faber

  • CLARITY

    There are those occasional moments of clarity that appear without warning and are, as quickly, gone. We expect them less as we age and they oblige us by staying away. Children assume them, and are rarely surprised, as though they see them coming, need no warning and have no expectation anything will come of them.…

    Lou Faber

  • RISHO’S POEM 鐵笛倒吹 三十語

    Have you been here – who will know? The sun and moon record your journey. What you release gathers joyously around you, what you cling to flies off on the slightest breeze, mountain and cloud enfold each other. Will you join them? A reflection on case 35 of the Iron Flute Koans

    Lou Faber

  • SETTLING

    Settling into perfect stillness, each of us in our brown robes on brown chairs, benches cushions, note his entry is somewhere between the thundering of a forgotten storm or the garbage trucks crawling slowly down the street. His gray-blue shirt and jeans flash by. He is large in every dimension, even his breathing nice and…

    Lou Faber

  • DANCE

    The red kite dances alongside the yellowed leaf borne by the fall breeze. The clouds flow like a river across the smile of the child. First appeared in Active Muse, Varsha 2019 Issue

    Lou Faber

  • RISHO’S POEM

    Have you been here – who will know? The sun and moon record your journey. What you release gathers joyously around you, what you cling to flies off on the slightest breeze, mountain and cloud enfold each other. Will you join them? A reflection on case 35 of the Iron Flute Koans.

    Lou Faber