an old writer and his words

  • CHANGES

    Each morning after arisingI look in the mirrorI imagine everything is the same as the day beforeI imagine everything has changedf rom the day before.I do ask the mirror what itbelieves has changed, what itbelieves has stayed the same.Most days it says nothing, merelystares back at me, mocking.Occasionally the mirror will concedethat it is another…

    Lou Faber

  • FOUR WETLAND HAIKU

    Apple Snail shellbleached by the sun, emptyhappy Snail Kite Great Egret sitting stillwaiting, simply waitingthen flying off Red-shouldered hawkstaring into the distanceendless patience Pig frog croakingbut the moon will not answerwe fall asleep

    Lou Faber

  • POLISH

    Mother made a point of remindingme to polish my shoes, she saiduntidy shoes are the markof a poor man, one to be avoided. I noticed she never wore shoesthat needed polish, never had waxand brush in hand, and when her shoesshowed wear they were replaced. I learned early not to talk backto her, the penalty…

    Lou Faber

  • EDGE OF THE ABYSS

    He sits on the edgepeering down, shakingin the breeze, knowingthe abyss below waitsfor a misstep, a slip. He stares up, waitingfor her return, hopingshe will soon arrivebringing the meal, neverenough always wanting more. He knows he willsomeday soon haveto leave, but for nowall he can do is spreadhis wings, flap them, until it will seem…

    Lou Faber

  • THE QUESTION

    Even long after he had lefthis childhood behind, or suchof it as he had actually had,he could still stare up intothe night sky, at ceiling of starswith more than a little awe. And even though he had leftchildhood behind, no onehad yet answered the onequestion his parents duckedtime and time again, oneso simple a child…

    Lou Faber

  • EFFECT

    The morning was indistinguishable from so many others. Lorenz was taking his morning walk around the pond or lake, it was of that intermediate size that could be either or neither, when in a break with his habit, he sat down on one of the four benches, and stared out over the water. He hadn’t…

    Lou Faber

  • STARING

    She sits demurely on the stepstaring off at something.You want to know what buther face isn’t saying, her eyessoft, revealing nothing, her smileenticing, teasing, and out of grasp. You want to sit with her, seewhat she looks at, what has capturedher thoughts, and there is roomon the step for you to join her,but you have…

    Lou Faber

  • LINKAGE

    Linking things is a human need,tenuous forces barely holdingacross synapses easily brokenor lost, never to be replaced. Ithaca is forever joined withGalway City, and I still have notfigured out how to get the twopeople together as together isobviously what they should be. She sits at a small tablein the Commons, staring, waitingperhaps for a writer…

    Lou Faber

  • JOSHU’S CYPRUS TREE

    A young childdoes not ask for meaning,all things areas they areuntil they are not.The foolishness of agecauses men to starein search of meaningthey will never find.It is the blind manwho will find the diamond. A reflection on case 119 of Dogen’s Shobogenzo (True Dharma Eye) Koans

    Lou Faber

  • THREE WORDS ARE MIND

    If you stareat a large stoneand call it a mountainthe ant will agree with you.If you gaze on a mountainand call it a stonethere can be no argument.If I call that treea toothpickclean your teeth carefully. A reflection on Case 112 of Dogen’s Shobogenzo (True Dharma Eye) Koans

    Lou Faber