an old writer and his words

  • SEPPO’S WOODEN BALL 鐵笛倒吹 八十九

    The teacher rolls a wooden ball past the students seated around his feet. Will you pick it up and return it to him? The teacher rolls a wooden ball past the students seated around his feet. I sit still and let it pass. Which of us deserves the stick, which a silent smile. Buddha is…

    Lou Faber

  • REFLECTING

    There was a time, once, when in the mirror I saw a young face, but the smile then is the same as that of the old man who greets me early every morning.

    Lou Faber

  • LIVING

    They sit in a small wine bar on an out-of-the-way street in an out-of-the-way city, she sipping a Oregon Pinot Noir while he is on his second Alsatian Pinot Gris. She asks him if he ever thinks about death. He peers into his wine glass, than at her and smiles a gentle smile, “I don’t,”…

    Lou Faber

  • EUTERPEAN EVENING

    An evening: spring retreating in the face of summer, two garnacha, a piano, standup bass, drums, her voice lifts the weight of the sky and we float up on a melody, unchained. In heaven George and Ira smile and we, here, smile with them.

    Lou Faber

  • 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

  • THREE VIEWS: WINTER

    the ghosts of morning cast their spell over the sun joyous winter smiles   first snow of winter white coated Buddha dreaming of chrysanthemums   each flake different a billion unique moments a Buddhist season    

    Lou Faber

  • SEOUL

    Thursday night, and Planet Hollywood in Seoul is dead, more smiling staff than diners, the bar a well polished wasteland, no lines in the gift shop, the Penguin mask staring out over the almost empty dining room. As we leave, having consumed half a bottle of soju between us to the blare of the endless videos,…

    Lou Faber

  • SHRINE

    In the cramped dark little temple the Buddha casts his smile for the duration of a match and then you are returned to the pitch of the life from which you sought solace. Another match, another smile I am here always he whispers, you need only close your eyes to truly see me.

    Lou Faber

  • DARLING’S MANTRAS

    You are two and you laugh for everything is funny or can be, if you just tilt your head a certain way or wag a finger at it. The cat watches from behind the sofa with a knowing gaze. For you food is as much a toy as words are food and you cannot imagine…

    Lou Faber

  • ANGELS

    She says sometimes an angel  will appear, and you won’t know it. Driving US 1 out of Narragansett, the map says you are close to the sea. You cannot smell the salt air, there is no scent of cod or clam, there is only faith. The waitress in the Newport Café wears the plaid shirt…

    Lou Faber