an old writer and his words

  • HAIKU

    I picked up a bookoff the shelf this morningone hundred haiku it was like sitting downa word starved man, tiredof searching for an alwaysdenied sustenance, and herelaid out before me, a repastof the sweetest grapes,bits of sugar caressinga tongue grown usedto the often bitternessof ill-considered prose. As midday approachedI knew that this was a mealto…

    Lou Faber

  • MELODY

    I sing a shattered songof someone else’s youththe melody forgottenthe words faded into oddsyllables heard in my dreams.The coyote stands at the edgeof a gully staring at meand wondering why I slipfrom the hogan throughthe hole punchedin the back wallslinking awayin the encroaching dark.The priest, his saffron robespulled tight around his legsin the morning chill,stares…

    Lou Faber

  • HOGEN’S DRIP OF WATER 鐵笛倒吹 九十一

    What are wordsof wisdomfrom the mouthof the ancient ones.I tell youthese are such words.You may acceptor reject themas you will.Better still, tearthis page from its bindingcrumple itand cast itto the four winds.Let it be carriedoff in ten directions. A reflection on case 91 of the Iron Flute Koans

    Lou Faber

  • WORDS, WORDS, WORDS

    We are, he is convinced,devolving into verbal neanderthals,losing are ability to recognizethe linguistic tools that onceset us apart from other species,or at least so we assured ourselves.She knows that what truly sets usapart from other species is the arcaneskill we have at being ableto convince ourselves thatdelusion, firmly held, is fact.Still, she cannot disagree with…

    Lou Faber

  • KAFKA

    June 13, 1896, Prague a warm day, old stone schul you stood before the minyon wearing the skullcap repeating ancient words that lay on paper, rehearsed sounding false on a tongue swollen in anxiety. Your tallit, white woven with blue threads hung at your knees fringe fingered, rolled and unrolled, twisted until touched to skin…

    Lou Faber

  • A PEN FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

    It has a certain heft that says something substantial lies within, waiting to be freed. It glides easily, suggesting an effortlessness you know is a tease, that labor still waits. Still, it does said comfortably, is appealing to the eye, has the deep jade green  along its barrel, the knots interwoven top and bottom that…

    Lou Faber

  • WHEN I GROW UP

    It has taken 67 years, but I have finally arrived at what I want to do and be when I finally grow up, which should happen any day now, but please don’t hold your breath. In this modern age, there is an ever present and growing need for euphemists, and I am perfectly suited for…

    Lou Faber

  • THE MIDDLE WAY

    George Harrison said that if you don’t know where you are going, any road will take you there, and on reflection it was obvious he was correct.. Today, rising from the cushion, the four vows recited, Buddha put back on his small altar, Harrison’s words echoed loudly for he understood in a moment what it…

    Lou Faber

  • ELEGY FOR A POET

    (for Allen Ginsburg) You died quietly in your bed friends gathered around the cars and buses of the city clattering out a Kaddish to a God you had long ago dismissed as irrelevant. We would have expected your to howl, to decry the unfairness of it all, but you merely said it is time, and…

    Lou Faber

  • A MISTAKE IN SPEAKING

    When you speak the words of the Buddha you are lost. Light is everywhere in silence but the tongue must hide in the dark of the mouth. Buddha’s words are flowers unfolding in the dawn by the side of the still pond, the eyes hear the song and respond in silent chorus. A reflection on…

    Lou Faber