an old writer and his words

  • OCCLUSION

    After the stroke he couldn’t remember much, was the woman in white who bathed him his wife or someone he slept with once before he had gotten married. Monogamy was a word that he remembered, though not its meaning, or why he had sworn to abide it. When the aide brought in the flowers, they…

    Lou Faber

  • MISTAKE IN SPEAKING 無門關 三十九

    When you speak the words of the Buddha you are lost. Light is everywhere in silence but the tongue must hide in the dark of the mouth. Buddha’s words are flowers unfolding in the dawn by the side of the still pond, the eyes hear the song and respond in silent chorus. A reflection on…

    Lou Faber

  • A MISTAKE IN SPEAKING 無門關 三十九

    When you speak the words of the Buddha you are lost. Light is everywhere in silence but the tongue must hide in the dark of the mouth. Buddha’s words are flowers unfolding in the dawn by the side of the still pond, the eyes hear the song and respond in silent chorus. A reflection on…

    Lou Faber

  • AN OFF YEAR

    The was a winter, once, where even in the north the snow refused to fall, ice rejected jamming the culverts, and the sky stared down in amazement. That was the year trees would not bud and flowers fled deeper into the sweetness of the earth, grass sighed and lay indolent. It was a year my…

    Lou Faber