an old writer and his words

  • TALMUD

    She asks the Rabbi what God looks like, and he has to admit he doesn’t know. She doesn’t know either, but she’s only three so she isn’t expected to know. She tells the Rabbi that he should find out. The Rabbi doesn’t tell her he is no longer certain where to look for God. She…

    Lou Faber

  • THE FLUTE PLAYER PLAYS ON

    HYAKUREI’S ATTAINMENT  鐵笛倒吹 四  Sitting with a monk at the feet of the master when his mouth opens what will you hear? If you both see a sudden light will you say something when asked?   Walk slowly away from questions and keep your answers tucked away in your straw hat and lit all be…

    Lou Faber

  • Hiatus

    It was, simply, the strangest summer of his life. He didn’t go home between semesters, as he agreed he would when his parents agreed to pay for college. Their marriage was quickly unravelling and each frayed thread was a live wire that threatened to burn anyone it touched, and he needed none of that. Years…

    Lou Faber

  • And So It Begins

    The coyote no longer inhabits the hill south of our city. Yet we know he is there, staring down at the lake, watching the grape clusters fatten on the vines. We cannot see the orange-red orbs of his eyes on a still winter night. We know he sees us. Coyote cannot be found, no carcasses…

    Lou Faber