an old writer and his words

  • WIDOWER

    In the cold nightof another winterhe stares outacross the barren fieldswhich have long forgottenthe taste of the sun.He watches carefullyfor a signbut the naked branchdenies the breeze.He remembershow it once wasin the heatof the dying firethe sweetness of her lipslingering on his tongue.She is gone, has beenso long, her faceis hiddenby the gauzy veilof time.He…

    Lou Faber

  • CONVERSATION

    If you want a good conversationbirds should be your first choice,wading birds at the top of the list,although you still have to be quickfor if you meander they will lose interest. Animals are to who you should turnif you need advice on getting throughthe omnipresent obstacles life raisesto impede your smooth passage through it,but note…

    Lou Faber

  • A CAPPING VERSE

    Snow always seemed so rightcapping the summit of Fujiyama,not dulled by the windowsof the Shinkansen to Osaka. You barely noticed the rice fieldsfanning out from its basewanted to reach out and touch itfor that is what you do with icons. Mount Hood had the same effectbut the chill along the Willametteurged you to retreat quickly…

    Lou Faber

  • A SUDDEN DEPARTURE

    You sneaked away one night. You were there, but while sleep claimed me, you were gone without notice or warning. Where should I look for you? In these barren hills where the spirits of the first nations roam, looking for their ancestral land? Where should I look for you? Wandering these verdant fields where a…

    Lou Faber

  • NEVER BOATS

    “Trains are present,” she said,” and somewhat the buses, but airplanes are mostly absent.” I understand what she meant, and didn’t need her to cover hands over her ears to cement the point. On a train, most sit back, some with ear buds but many simply stare out the window at towns and villages and…

    Lou Faber

  • VILLAGE

    The village of my grandfather still stands amid the fields adobe walls stained by soot from the fireplace birds nesting in the summer warmed chimney singing. The ancient scythe leans against the wall, its blade embedded in the crusted soil as the old tractor idles in the field. Armies have trod this ground ignoring the…

    Lou Faber

  • ALLEGORY

    The sooty snow blankets the fields blowing like a still ocean off the precipice of the horizon. The clouds of ash tinged cotton hug the earth a blanket under which all life finds refuge from the ghosts of winter. To the wanderer which the cave mouth which the cave?

    Lou Faber

  • FUJI

    Looking out the window of the Osaka bound train at the great snow-covered mountain I saw, for just a moment my face on its slopes. Staring down at the train hurtling across the fields, the great Fuji smiled briefly before returning to its stony stare.

    Lou Faber

  • YAKUSAN’S LAKE 鐵笛倒吹 八十八

    When you travel from home and are asked if the lake on the shore of which you live is now full, what can you say. Will you speak of the rains that soaked your fields and what of the herd of water buffalo come to graze since you have left. The eye sees only now…

    Lou Faber

  • JIZO PLANTS THE FIELD

    If you truly want to walk in the footsteps of the Buddha stand perfectly still and unmoving. If you truly want to comprehend the whole of the Dharma put down all of your books and scrolls, roll up your sleeves and plant the barren fields, clearing away rocks and stones. If you want to taste…

    Lou Faber