an old writer and his words

  • NO BOIL

    Not so much watchedas casually gazed at, andnot a pot but a smartphone,which had best not boil. No ring, not this daylost in what, an absentmind, thoughts of self,not unexpected but wanted. Distance real becomesdistance virtual, emptylater explained, wordsof apology, forgiveness but a lingering scar thatwill recede, reappearthat laughter may coverbut never fully erase.

    Lou Faber

  • WE WANT, AGAIN

    We want to cry out,but we have no words. We want to screambut all we give is silence. We want to curse the invaderbut cannot be heardover the tanks, bombsand rockets. We want to mournbut there are so manyinnocents, wheredo we begin? We want to act,but we are incapableand can offeronly silent prayer.

    Lou Faber

  • SOPHIE

    She maintained an aura of what sheimagined was elegance, a carefullyconstructed persona carried outin the most careful details. Her furniture had slipcovers, lestsomeone spill and mar the fabric,a tea cart always at the readyalthough I never saw her serve tea. She spoke with carefully chosenwords, certainly not the vernacularof the city, perhaps of Londonwhere she…

    Lou Faber

  • DUSK

    There is nothing like, nowords to adequately describe,that moment when a cloud-hazed sun lingers wishfullyjust above the horizon, graspingthe sky with brilliant talonsof light, fearing becominglost in a darkness that will,on this night of the new moon,engulf us all in its inky shroud. We know, or pray, the sunwill return in hours, justas the sun…

    Lou Faber

  • LOOKING FOR WORDS

    They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Perhaps so, but many pictures don’t travel in verbose company, and there are pictures worth far, far less, although some will search until the magic thousand are found. In Japan a story can be told in seventeen syllables, a picture painted with a single brushstroke. In…

    Lou Faber

  • A VISION

    He loved the simple irony of it all. His vision was failing in one eye, likely might in the other, from macular degeneration. There was a hole in his vision thanks to his macula and geographic atrophy. And being a man of words he knew the best way to describe that spot, that hole, was…

    Lou Faber

  • UMMON’S TWO SICKNESSES

    As you wanderyour path, what is itthat you search for? When you seekinstruction from a masterwhat is it you expecthim to provide you? When you sitstill on the cushionyou may find a momentof kensho, butlabeling that momentdestroys it. Enlightenment cannotbe describedfor attaching wordsbrings it to the groundas rubble aroundyour feet. A reflection on Case 11…

    Lou Faber

  • A WELL REHEARSED SILENCE

    Of course there is something I oughtto say, moments like this require it,it goes without saying, painfully. I practiced lines for hours, rehearsedin my dreams for weeks, knewfor years I’d be rendered mute. My tongue swells, threateningto escape my mouth or take refugedeep within my esophagus. Your silence is only compoundingmy anxiety, how can I,…

    Lou Faber

  • LUNA’S SONG

    Tonight, when the sunhas finally conceded the dayto its distant but ever larger kin,the moon will again singher ever waning songhoping we will joinin a chorus we haveso long forgotten,bound to the earthin body and in waxing thought. We will stop and listenperhaps, over the dinof the city, the traffic,the animals conversingwith the sky, our…

    Lou Faber

  • XIANGYAN’S GREAT ENLIGHTENMENT

    Tell me, the master saidwhat did you knowof the worldbefore you firsthad words.If this perplexes youask the infant, newbornin his tears and smilesall of Dharmais laid outbefore you. A reflection on Case 10 of the Shobogenzo Koans (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber