an old writer and his words

  • HAKUUN’S BLACK AND WHITE 鐵笛倒吹 十四

    Like Hakuunshun the city,flee the townsand find a homein the forest onlyin the deepest partof winter, butdo not shun peoplein your solitude. Write versesof total silenceand dig deeply intonewly fallen snow.Let it drift over youuntil you black hairis all that appearson an endless field of white. A reflection on case 14 of the Iron Flute…

    Lou Faber

  • NEVER BOATS

    “Trains are present,” she said,” and somewhat the buses, but airplanes are mostly absent.” I understand what she meant, and didn’t need her to cover hands over her ears to cement the point. On a train, most sit back, some with ear buds but many simply stare out the window at towns and villages and…

    Lou Faber

  • EARLY MORNING

    Early this morning as I drove through the mist that clings to Portland in March like a child’s yellow slicker, I thought of you, home, asleep on our bed, my side tidy, no faint indentation of life, and I thought of the thousands who have died to date in Iraq, who never again will leave…

    Lou Faber