an old writer and his words

  • DRAPERY

    It was draped over the fence, a bridge for squirrels who would otherwise would go through the chain. There’s a sadness to its needles, many burying themselves in the accumulated snow, cast off by the great Spruce as extraneous, an old coneless branch, “that is the reason” the trunk whispers in the wind “why I…

    Lou Faber

  • THOU SHALT NOT

    “I don’t want to” is hardly a sagacious way to run a country and “just because” probably didn’t work when you were a child, why would you think adults would accept it now? And when we all expressed our displeasure, disdain and contempt, which part of “no” did you have trouble grasping, Mr. President? The…

    Lou Faber

  • GOING AND RETURNING 鐵笛倒吹 三十八

      Only the fool will wander from teacher to teacher seeking answers. They will offer only questions. The wise one returns to the question again and again for she may find many answers within, just as the apple tree bears many ripe fruit if carefully tended, each with the seeds of a new tree. Pick…

    Lou Faber

  • THE SIXTH ANCESTOR’S “YOUR MIND IS MOVING”

    As you look out the window you say the branches of the tree are dancing, the clouds barely stopping to gaze down on the scene. Walk outside and feel the breeze skitter along your skin, see the seed pods of the maple take wing and fly off. Ask yourself why this is, is it the…

    Lou Faber

  • TRUE MEANING

    The iguana sits in the tree and stares at me. It isn’t clear whether he is daring me to climb the tree, knowing that I like most humans well into middle age are incapable of the task, or merely showing off, appreciative of an audience. A little child walking by points to the iguana, says,…

    Lou Faber

  • DROPPING IN

    He drops suddenly from a branch of a tree which you don’t see for all of the others. He lands a foot from you, you pause suddenly and he looks up at you, trying to determine if you are friend, foe, or lunch. He concludes you are not lunch and scurries off under a nearby…

    Lou Faber

  • THE VIEW FROM ABOVE

    The hawk sits in one of the highest branches of the tree, his red shoulders blazing in the morning sun, both staring down on those of us trapped by gravity, by the weight of our thoughts, as we pass by slowly below. From time to time the hawk will offer a short commentary, never ceasing…

    Lou Faber

  • UNGAN’S SWEEPS THE GROUND

    As you stoop to pick up fallen leaves are you cleaning spring, summer or autumn? What seasons are deep within the winter branch? How does your work and that of the tree truly differ, and what leaves do you shed? A reflection on Case 83 of the Shobogenzo (True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber

  • ELEGY

    I am a Yao gem inferior to jade but awaiting the sorceress. Will she wear me in her ear, or prefer the pendant? I am a branch broken from the tree to dry on the ground my fruit shriveled into stones. Carry me in your dance inhale the fragrance and raise me from the ashes…

    Lou Faber

  • WINTER TOKYO

    A skeletal tree stands too many winters bones grown brittle, crackling ashen gun-metal gray, Tokyo Bay at evening’s onset a bird perches, staring at a last leaf clinging knowing frozen earth awaits. It is winter, sap pools in roots seeking earth’s dying warmth. We warm our hands by the fire, as bones of other trees…

    Lou Faber