an old writer and his words

  • KEMBO’S TRANSMIGRATION 鐵笛倒吹 六十七

      Awakening in the morning when you first see the sun and the dew resting on thee leaf which eye are you using. When you stare into the mirror through what eye do you see, and what eyes stare back at you. When you see the deer lying in the road which eye do you…

    Lou Faber

  • THIS IS HOW WE MOURN

    This is how we mourn: we don’t berate the clouds for gathering, nor begrudge the rain’s ultimate descent. Our tears fall to the earth as well, and there are moments when we need the gray, moments when the sun would be an unwelcomed interloper. This is how we mourn: we wipe the walls clean of…

    Lou Faber

  • EVENTIDE

    The sky is the leaden gray that denies the sun and threatens the moon’s arrival. It presses down on the roofs of the tallest buildings, wraps them in a depression those on the street below feel without need of looking up. This is a teasing sky, a drop here, there, until we know we are…

    Lou Faber

  • NI HAIKU 二俳句

    a great blue heron watches the morning sun rise ginkgos awaken newly hatched goslings watching the trees take flower imagine summer 大な青い鷺 朝の太陽を見る イチョウ覚醒 孵化した新芽 木の花を見て 夏の夢 (daina aoi sagi Asa no taiyō o miru Ichō kakusei Fuka shita shinme Ki no hana o mite Natsu no yume)  

    Lou Faber

  • THREE VIEWS OF WINTER (HAIKU)

    cat curls by the fire dreaming of summer flowers snow falls in laughter now barren branches of the locust tree shiver in the midnight breeze a raging sun sets as cranes raise wings in farewell winter awakens

    Lou Faber

  • A POET IS

    A poet is a child who on seeing a blank page must fill it with dreams hears the song of the nightingale in the din of passing traffic comforts the lonely mother recalling the pain of a thousand births sees in each passing cloud the tears of a generation feels the heat of the sun…

    Lou Faber

  • PROGRESSION

    It is between the pushing away in the pulling back that it happens. It is there that the seasons progress, one to the next. Winter cedes to spring and is, ever reluctantly, replaced by summer. It is there, as well, that the leaf emerges from the bud and reaches into the sky. And feeling the…

    Lou Faber

  • A SIMPLE QUESTION

    A woman walks up to me and asks, “can you juggle the salt and pepper shakers?” but I know what she really wants is for me to bind her wounds and drag the sun quickly from the horizon. I pick up two apples and a plum but the plum falls to the floor and rolls…

    Lou Faber

  • PADDIES

    At first it is a checkerboard of ponds neatly arrayed, reflecting the sun, the work of man, for God so rarely plays geometrician with creation, less often still using right angles. Soon enough green blades reach up through the shirred surface, random, reaching for a sun they can never touch. Later, it is a field,…

    Lou Faber

  • SUN-FACED BUDDHA, MOON-FACED BUDDHA

    Life is joy and pain, two sides, one coin – death is caused by birth – stop and consider this. Look into the face of the evening sun, will it retreat from your eyes or linger in memory? Look into the face of the full midnight moon, does she have the sun’s face only until…

    Lou Faber