an old writer and his words

  • PEKING

    Chi-Chi was a cute pekein a very “runt of the litter”sort of way, cuddly buthardly the show dogher breeders had intended.I asked why she was calledChi-Chi and my father searchedand showed me her AKCpapers, with the full namethat would’ve made thoseof Spanish royaltypause to consider the brevityof their seemingly endless names.She was a simple joy,…

    Lou Faber

  • OH, HELL

    You say that I am an apostate,hell bent, hell bound, soon to meetthe hell hound awaiting my arrival. You have condemned me for thoughtsthat deviate from your own, youare the guardians of the Word, you say, although whose words you guard is everharder and harder to discern, certainlynot those of He who died for saying…

    Lou Faber

  • CITY OF DREAMS

    I live in city thatisn’t a city at all,despite what it callsitself. It is a suburbof suburbs, whichin Florida can passfor a city. The birds ignorethe gates and wallsand come and gofreely. We live insidethe gates and wallsand remember livingin a real city.

    Lou Faber

  • THAT DOES NOT COMPUTE

    The key, he knows is to eliminate the impossible. Once you do that what remains, no matter how improbable must be the truth. Holmes, as it comes out might have been right. Oliver Wendell was, but how can you know when you’ve eliminated all impossibilities? Doyle (Roddy perhaps) would note that improbabilities can look a…

    Lou Faber

  • CHAO CHOU’S FOUR GATES

      Standing on the edge of the precipice with your eyes closed,  what will you do? If I turn you around, where is the edge and where is the land from which you approached? If I say you must take a step, do you gently place your toe out and seek to feel the earth,…

    Lou Faber

  • JOSHU’S FOUR GATES 正法眼蔵 四十六

    If you ask me who I am, I will have you close your eyes and walk behind you, or I may step to your left and take your right hand. If you are perplexed, I will ask you: do the four gates open into the city or out to the world beyond, and if I…

    Lou Faber

  • MANDALA

    Day one, and they are hunched over the mat meticulously drawing faintly on its deep blue surface. Day two and sitting, leaning forward they precisely place the first grains of sand. Day three, the same and the picture begins to emerge though they dare not breathe. Day upon day, minute upon minute hours on end…

    Lou Faber