an old writer and his words

  • NAMASTE

    If you stare at it very closely and carefully you will soon see that deep within it there is silence. You may take it with you, it will go along willingly, but if only you don’t try and grasp it. It is soft to the touch, certainly, and has a sweetness that settles gently into…

    Lou Faber

  • TAI YRA MANO MOTINA (THIS IS MY MOTHER)

    It’s odd how your stature has grown as I dream of you occasionally staring at your yearbook picture. It was only four years ago that I knew you existed, but hadn’t the faintest idea of who you were, anything about your life, why you gave me up, and, therefore who it was I might have…

    Lou Faber

  • OLD MONK

    The old monk stooped carefully, gingerly picking each browning leaf from the dry garden and gently placing it in the sack he carried. With each leaf he would increase his count, always certain that it fully fell into the sack. When the last leaf was picked and even the autumn tree dared not drop another…

    Lou Faber

  • THE LAKE

    Sitting out in the middle of the large lake is a very small island. It’s more of a large rock just sticking out of the water, but everyone calls it an island. Moss grows all over the exposed part so you don’t know it’s all stone unless you row out to it, which no one…

    Lou Faber

  • CASTLE HARLECH

    High on the battlements of Castle Harlech the winter wind cuts through me like scythes slashing the grasses in the meadows that roll out toward the distant, mute hills. The plaintive cry of bowmen whose bones are dust taken deep into the Welsh soil are whispers lost in the wing sweep of the circling starlings.…

    Lou Faber

  • QUARTET (HAIKU)

    pond’s surface ripples each following another stone hidden from sight the old monk listens to the song of the passing breeze stars sing the refrain Buddha walks the road ignoring all around him each finds a teacher a circular path will take you nowhere quickly again and again

    Lou Faber

  • THREE HAIKU

    Giant cranes are perched on thin spindly legs, necks bowed steel beams scratch the clouds. Needle-like church spires reach through the gathering mist clouds begin to bleed. Walls stand in the field one stone piled on another grass withers in shade.

    Lou Faber

  • KINKA’S ANCIENT MIRROR

    A river may rub a stone until it reflects the morning sun. A jeweler may polish it and facet it until it shatters the light in ten directions. A wise man knows it is still the same stone.   A reflection on Shobogenzo Case 117

    Lou Faber

  • DEFIANCE

    The stone defies the flame, drawing it in unyielding, until it is licked by the snow of winter The page defies the words, denying them purchase, they are flat without eyes to see them the repose unbroken The barren earth defies the king who orders it fertile as sand swirls engulfing the palace tearing at its…

    Lou Faber

  • DUAL SINGULARITY

    Stare at white sand surrounding the polished stone, listen to the earth. The stone knows no pain falling to the pond’s bottom, ripples comfort it.

    Lou Faber