an old writer and his words

  • AWAITING THE WAVES

    “Describe yourself,” she said “that I might capture you if only for this moment a footprint left once you have departed this place and time.” I am, I should think, biologically plausible though straining the bounds of reason once and again. I tend to philosophic androgyny hovering on the fulcrum of paradox. I am the…

    Lou Faber

  • FERRYMAN

    He comes to me in the dead hour of night the old shriveled man poling his poor ferry across the river of my dreams. He comes when the moon has fled and the stars fall mute and he beckons me holding out the copper coins stating his fare. He comes to me, beckoning, and for…

    Lou Faber

  • UNGAN’S NOT ANY SINGLE WORD

    The youngest child, her mind uncluttered, can answer any question unburdened by words, and her answers can only rebound across the universe. If you stop struggling to hear her, let the silence surround you both, you cannot escape the answers. A reflection on case 84 of the Shobogenzo (True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber

  • IS THAT SO 沙石集 三

    If you find an orphan do you take him as your own. Do you feed and shelter him and offer him your name. Does he sit at your side in silent meditation. Do you willingly accept the scorn of your neighbors for your bastard child? If his mother later comes, will you part with him…

    Lou Faber

  • ASHES TO DUST

    The dolphin is born of the water, the man born of the fire and of the earth. The dolphin swims unrestrained, the man chooses to live in the city of Afterlife, focussed on impending rebirth. The dolphin stares up in wonder at the amassing clouds, the man curses the sky shielding him from heaven. The dolphin…

    Lou Faber

  • ESCAPE PLAN

    Open the door quickly for you may find a wonderland: a bottled djinn waiting for your wish, a mangy dog looking for scraps his fur wet and matted, head down. Open the door quickly – it may be the entrance to a gallery or another door, and another until you are outside and must open…

    Lou Faber

  • HIERARCHY

    The buildings, great towers overlook the city. The hills, torn from the earth, peer down at the towers lights twinkling. The stars, sliding across the dome of night, watch over the hills. The child, for whom all is wonder, grasps the stars in small fingers.

    Lou Faber

  • KENSHO

    She curls in my arm, head on my chest, offers a gentle smile which melts me and I stroke her small shoulder, as Sid the Sloth and Manny the Mammoth, two bodhisattvas, smile back at us from the TV screen. Enlightenment isn’t something you seek, it’s a five-year old who sits next to you on the…

    Lou Faber

  • MEMORIAL

    This woman approaches the stone, carefully places sake and cherry blossoms and leans a sotoba against it, before bowing and walking away. It is what you do for a son, she says, looking at the bibbed Jizo hoping she can protect the child who lies beneath. That woman approaches the headstone, gently places the flowers and leans…

    Lou Faber

  • ZEN

    He has just turned two. He sits on my lap one hand clapping mine, for each of us a moment of Zen in ways no one can understand, since neither he nor I do. His laugh promises something, a future of moments like this, and yet never the same. “It is our river,” his smile…

    Lou Faber