tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-190327052024-03-07T03:29:28.647-05:00Theresa Williams-Author [Exile Edition]I'm a University Lecturer in English and the author of a novel, The Secret of Hurricanes (MacAdam/Cage 2002). My life is summed up by Rumi, who said: "My story gets told in various ways: a romance, a dirty joke, a war, a vacancy." Rumi's quote is the epigraph to Hurricanes. The purpose of this journal is to explore creativity and the writing life.Theresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.comBlogger1041125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-2236674713208343782011-07-18T03:15:00.000-04:002011-07-18T03:15:08.654-04:00Interview with Alain de BottonFrom an interview with Alain de Botton:<br />
<br />
<em><strong>What was your childhood like?</strong></em><br />
<br />
<br />
Generally troubled. My parents didn't especially like me, which left me with a feeling of unworthiness and self-doubt.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<em><strong>How did it shape you?</strong></em><br />
<br />
It made me want to express myself and give a voice to precious things that had been silenced. <br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.marcopoloquarterly.com/interviewbotton.html">http://www.marcopoloquarterly.com/interviewbotton.html</a>Theresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-22063497978240701762011-06-08T00:45:00.000-04:002011-06-08T00:45:26.920-04:00FoundFound tonight a poem about one of my favorite writers, by one of my favorite writers:<br />
<br />
Carson McCullers <br />
<br />
<br />
she died of alcoholism<br />
wrapped in a blanket<br />
on a deck chair<br />
on an ocean<br />
steamer. <br />
<br />
all her books of<br />
terrified loneliness <br />
<br />
all her books about<br />
the cruelty<br />
of loveless love <br />
<br />
were all that was left<br />
of her <br />
<br />
as the strolling vacationer<br />
discovered her body <br />
notified the captain <br />
<br />
and she was quickly dispatched<br />
to somewhere else<br />
on the ship <br />
<br />
as everything<br />
continued just<br />
as<br />
she had written it <br />
<br />
<strong>Charles Bukowski </strong>Theresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-16118554316326000582011-02-20T01:49:00.002-05:002011-02-20T01:49:47.767-05:00Clothes shopping and bootsJust remembered that I've been having a lot of dreams lately about clothes shopping and boots. Shopping in expensive places (although sometimes places like Kohls or Sears). Looking at exotic wear, especially boots. Very fancy ones, platform boots. <br />
<br />
Odd, since I don't much enjoy clothes shopping.Theresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-56043219377239175342011-02-19T22:01:00.000-05:002011-02-19T22:01:22.257-05:00In the MailFirst: three new haibun accepted by <em>Contemporary Haibun Online</em>, due out in April: "Once and for All," "In Repair," and "Taos Pueblo." And my haibun "The First Cold Nights" just came out in the Winter issue of <em>Frogpond. </em><br />
<br />
And, speaking of <em>Frogpond, </em>in the mail this week I got my first-ever copy. Of course I've read it before but had never subscribed until now. (I always subscribe to magazines that publish me; these magazines need our support so they can continue to publish others.) <br />
<br />
<em>Frogpond</em> is the journal of the Haiku Society of America. You can find out more about <em>Frogpond </em>by going here: <a href="http://www.hsa-haiku.org/frogpond/index.html">http://www.hsa-haiku.org/frogpond/index.html</a><br />
<br />
<em>Frogpond </em>is filled with haiku, haibun, rengay, renku, essays, and book reviews. Some of the haiku from this issue I particularly liked were:<br />
<br />
thaw<br />
the snowman waters<br />
the crocus<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(John J. Dunphy)</span><br />
<br />
sunset<br />
warmth from within<br />
the egg<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Johnette Downing)</span><br />
<br />
Maybe it's that I have spring and warmth on my mind, but I think these are really fine examples of haiku. Both stir with the promise of new life. <br />
<br />
Dr. Randy Brooks of Millikin University has an essay called "Genesis of Haiku: Where Do Haiku Come From?" I appreciate his point about haiku as a "collaborative co-creative act." He discusses how much active participation is required on the part of the reader to interpret and enjoy haiku. <br />
<br />
There were so many exceptional haibun in this issue. (I confess to having a personal preference for haibun). I loved them all and look forward to savoring each again (and again). Upon first read, two of my favorites are "Home" by John Stevenson and "Not Amused" by Ray Rasmussen. "Home" is a complex story of loss, accomplished in so few lines as to be astonishing to me. "Not Amused" is--well--a somewhat amusing take on loss. Every loss has its sadness, but "Not Amused" takes the edge off the sadness with touches of irony, perfectly rendered. <br />
<br />
Also in the mail, two chapbooks by Red Shuttleworth, a gift from Red Shuttleworth, each signed by the author:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>To Theresa,</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>a kindred spirit</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Best Wishes, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Red </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>To Theresa</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Some chaos from</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Western roads.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Best Wishes</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Red</em></span><br />
<br />
Red's previous work has received a Spur Ward from Western Writers of America. He's been published in some of the great little mags, such as <em>Concho River Review, Rattle</em>, and <em>Zone 3</em>. <em>Rattle</em> is a great favorite of mine. If you have access to it, read it. <br />
<br />
I just received Red's poems today, but an early favorite is "At the Crest of Longing" in which a blackbird commits suicide during a wedding reception in Broken Bow and Beefalo burger is "on sale down the street."<br />
<br />
THANKS, RED!Theresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-71577462233145791232011-02-14T17:22:00.000-05:002011-02-14T17:22:22.257-05:00Goings On<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRRirHSC6wcz3aDiH_ejQNPrpYNqOwPZuaO4vqnH3A0kj_naW1szkk3YntA2bgqK2Mzrk0Bcu3fDXFGwKjfCiTTrmyB1mK2sebioALRrK9ftJVOFdKGt-QBUzBOnrxKKoOWtErQ/s1600/fix1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRRirHSC6wcz3aDiH_ejQNPrpYNqOwPZuaO4vqnH3A0kj_naW1szkk3YntA2bgqK2Mzrk0Bcu3fDXFGwKjfCiTTrmyB1mK2sebioALRrK9ftJVOFdKGt-QBUzBOnrxKKoOWtErQ/s320/fix1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjb_pqwQRDsXkCH9Zkk7LPdZzC2xmn355qn9PslYAkO_rDYPmls6ZRADPmLOhIY53w909VQKR1_pX7Ii8I_lAa_4R6K5K6f26XEsycBJgmwrbJvPrk9KPdBUcTaggi5_PXcWGSw/s1600/fix2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjb_pqwQRDsXkCH9Zkk7LPdZzC2xmn355qn9PslYAkO_rDYPmls6ZRADPmLOhIY53w909VQKR1_pX7Ii8I_lAa_4R6K5K6f26XEsycBJgmwrbJvPrk9KPdBUcTaggi5_PXcWGSw/s320/fix2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: red; font-size: x-small;">I got up today to Valentine surprises. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Allen had already been to town and bought the balloon (which I found floating up out of the bathtub), the flower, the onions (I love sweet onions--I can eat them like apples. I've always, always loved onions. When I was a baby, and my family was traveling across the country, my mother gave me green onions to suck on to keep me quiet. Allen knows how much I love onions!) He also brought two cream puffs, my favorite pastry, and he's going to cook my supper tonight.</span> </span><br />
<br />
Such goings on.<br />
<br />
In other news, I have two non-fiction pieces in an online magazine called <em>Talking Writing. </em>You'll find them here: <br />
<div> </div><div><a href="http://talkingwriting.com/?p=9663">http://talkingwriting.com/?p=9663</a></div><div> </div><div>and here:</div><div> </div><div><a href="http://talkingwriting.com/?p=12419">http://talkingwriting.com/?p=12419</a></div><div> </div><div>They've invited me to be a regular contributor. It feels good to be writing essays again. I love <em>Talking Writing</em>, since there's nothing I like talking about better than writing. This magazine is all about "talking" writing, so leave a comment if you feel so moved. </div><div> </div><div>I had a short story published in September 2010 in <em>The Sun. </em></div><div> </div><div>In April, I'll be flying to San Antonio. I'll be on a creative panel there for the American Culture/Pop Culture conference, reading several of my haibun. Go here: <a href="http://twilliams-creative-writing.blogspot.com/">http://twilliams-creative-writing.blogspot.com/</a> if you want to read some of the haibun. Or click on the Publications Page on this blog. </div><div> </div><div>Such goings on.</div><div> </div><div> </div><br />
<br />
<br />
<div> </div><div> </div>Theresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-25315069987880295282011-01-04T00:09:00.000-05:002011-01-04T00:09:46.045-05:00Talking WritingThere's a great new online magazine called Talking Writing. They've posted my piece, <a href="http://i%20dreamed%20i%20was%20a%20student%20and%20i%20was%20unprepared.%20the%20teacher%20was%20a%20thin,%20enigmatic,%20intense%20man%20with%20curly%20hair.%20it%20was%20night,%20and%20everyone%20sat%20around%20a%20wooden%20table%20in%20the%20woods.%20the%20trees%20were%20black-barked%20and%20bare.%20a%20full%20moon%20shone%20though%20lacy%20branches./">"On Writing,"</a> which is characteristic of the direction my writing is beginning to take. Those of you who have followed my blog for a long time will recognize many of the concerns and themes. Along with the actual piece is an explanation of how I came to create<a href="http://i%20dreamed%20i%20was%20a%20student%20and%20i%20was%20unprepared.%20the%20teacher%20was%20a%20thin,%20enigmatic,%20intense%20man%20with%20curly%20hair.%20it%20was%20night,%20and%20everyone%20sat%20around%20a%20wooden%20table%20in%20the%20woods.%20the%20trees%20were%20black-barked%20and%20bare.%20a%20full%20moon%20shone%20though%20lacy%20branches./"> "On Writing."</a> <br />
<br />
If you've ever had doubts about your own writing, this piece may speak to you. <br />
<br />
The editors have also included some of my drawings from my letters and journals. <br />
<br />
It's so nice to see some of my struggles, first written about here, actually bearing some fruit. <br />
<br />
I can feel something turning in me, a new excitement for writing. New ways of seeing and expression. <br />
<br />
Do visit Talking Writing and join the conversation.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year!Theresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-36625087272800100982010-12-02T02:47:00.000-05:002010-12-02T02:47:33.829-05:00Pillow Book 5: Breakfast KrautWhat cereals would be called if they had sauerkraut in them:<br />
<br />
1. Krautios<br />
2. Kraut Loops<br />
3. Kraut Jacks<br />
4. Kraut Pops<br />
5. Kraut Krispies<br />
6. Kraut Crunch<br />
7. Cap'n Kraut<br />
8. Frosted Mini Kraut<br />
9. Frosted Kraut<br />
10. Shreaded Kraut<br />
11. Kraut Nuts<br />
12. Honey Bunches of Kraut<br />
13. Special KTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-74942678719967855012010-12-02T02:23:00.000-05:002010-12-02T02:23:58.078-05:00Pillow Book 4: Lexicon of RattleWords from poems in the most recent edition of <em>Rattle, </em>a poetry magazine:<br />
<br />
1. dog<br />
2. bird<br />
3. bone<br />
4. smoke<br />
5. heart<br />
6. shit (more than once); (also: cat poop); (also: pee)<br />
7. living<br />
8. gophers<br />
9. fish (way more than once)<br />
10. bear<br />
11. roots<br />
12. veins<br />
13. world (more than once); (also: earth)<br />
14. breast feeding<br />
15. sleep<br />
16. dead man<br />
17. beauties of ruin<br />
18. love<br />
19. goats<br />
20. Theseus walking threadless into a maze<br />
21. fork<br />
22. rabbit carcasses (also: cadaver dog)<br />
23. artichokes<br />
24. father<br />
25. mouth<br />
26. hands<br />
27. shoes (more than once)<br />
28. brick<br />
29. sun<br />
30. children<br />
31. woman<br />
32. surrender<br />
33. house (more than once) (also: home)<br />
34. time<br />
35. egg<br />
36. sex<br />
37. cigars<br />
38. hell<br />
39. honey<br />
40. heat<br />
41. teacher<br />
42. poem (more than once)<br />
43. bodies (also: body) (more than once)<br />
44. sky<br />
45. hair (more than once)<br />
46. girls (also: boy or boys)<br />
47. deranged<br />
48. hatmakers<br />
49. limbs<br />
50. door<br />
51. darkness<br />
52. beating<br />
53. return<br />
54. eyes<br />
55. song (also: music)<br />
56. deaf<br />
57. tomorrow<br />
58. bathroom<br />
59. table<br />
60. squirrels (more than once)<br />
61. stroke<br />
62. morning<br />
63. umbrella<br />
64. gloves<br />
65. sand<br />
66. ice<br />
67. snow<br />
68. me (way more than once); (also: I)<br />
69. give<br />
70. dream<br />
71. future<br />
72. eyelid<br />
73. veil<br />
74. terrified<br />
75. dust<br />
76. deer<br />
77. afterlife<br />
78. tea<br />
79. blackberries<br />
80. cats<br />
81. hammer<br />
82. rocks<br />
83. cabinent<br />
84. envelope<br />
85. phone (more than onceTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-33218794902656619002010-12-01T21:29:00.000-05:002010-12-01T21:29:41.960-05:00Pillow Book 3: Warm Things1. summer stones and shells<br />
2. compliments (real ones)<br />
3. puppies and babies<br />
4. an unexpected kindness (as when the young woman offers the emaciated Buddha the rice porridge or when the theater troupe offers wild strawberries and milk to the beleaguered Knight in Bergman's <em>The Seventh Seal</em>)<br />
5. shoulder blades, when touched with my cold hand<br />
6. cooing of mourning doves<br />
7. color of a hoodoo or mesa<br />
8. a William Stafford poem<br />
9. berries just off the bush<br />
10. coffee, too long ago pouredTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-52547808112800219202010-11-30T02:04:00.001-05:002010-11-30T02:11:42.324-05:00Pillow Book 2: Gross Things1. hair in food<br />
2. when somebody spits mucus inside buildings (once I found it on the steps in University Hall)<br />
3. when the dog throws up <br />
4. when somebody spills a whole dairy drink inside the elevator or smears boogers on the doors of the elevator (yes, I saw this in East Hall. Recently.)<br />
5. when somebody talks on the phone when they're using the bathroom (sometimes I hear them doing this in public bathrooms). when somebody doesn't wash their hands after using the bathroom.<br />
6. when somebody doesn't flush the toilet<br />
7. food fights<br />
8. anything with Crisco shortening in it<br />
9. the sound our dog (Buddha) makes when he licks himself<br />
10. storebought bread with all the preservatives in it (like Wonder Bread, etc.). Also those storebought English muffins which never go bad because they are full of preservatives.<br />
11. When leftovers go bad in the refrigerator. <br />
12. Using spit to clean thingsTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-60059301527106329602010-11-29T00:54:00.004-05:002010-11-29T04:38:00.009-05:00Pillow Book 1: Things to Look Forward toHere's a good one for everybody who loves lists. I've wanted to do a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pillow_Book">Pillow Book</a> for some time. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sei_Sh%C5%8Dnagon">Sei Shonagon's</a> Pillow Book is described as "a collection of lists, gossip, poetry, observations, complaints and anyting else she found of interest during her years in court." I have a copy of Shonagon's book floating around my house somewhere. I need to find it. I remember what I liked most were her lists. Another name for this kind of book is a <strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zuihitsu">Zuihitsu</a></strong>. I've ordered a Zuihitsu called <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hojoki-Visions-Collection-Japanese-Literature/dp/1880656221/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1291023313&sr=1-1">Hōjōki</a></em>. <br />
<br />
<br />
I like lists (particularly poetic lists) but find them a little difficult to do, so I think it will be a good excercize for me. I want to generate at least five things each time. I can also go back and add things as I think of them. My first topic: <br />
<br />
THINGS TO LOOK FORWARD TO<br />
<br />
1. Allen in the truck, waiting to take me home from work<br />
2. The first snow<br />
3. Settling into a hot bath<br />
4. Toads' songs, spring<br />
5. Return of buzzards to Ohio, spring<br />
6. Pączki<br />
<br />
Here's a partial list from Shonagon's book that I found online. I especially like the last one.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">[From a list of "things that give you pleasure":]</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<ul><li>You've read the first volume of a tale you hadn't come across before, and are longing to go on with it --- then you find the other volume. The rest of it can sometimes turn out to be disappointing, however....</li>
<li>It's also wonderfully pleasing when you're in a large company of people in the presence of someone great, and she's talking, either about something in the past or on a matter she's only just heard about, some topic of the moment, and as she speaks, it's you she singles out to look at.....</li>
<li>When a poem that you've composed for some event, or in a exchange of poems, is talked of by everyone and noted down when they hear it. This hasn't happened to me personally, but I can imagine how it would feel....</li>
<li>When someone you don't like meets with some misfortune, you're pleased even though you know this is wicked of you. </li>
</ul>Theresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-75855036211101129302010-11-28T18:30:00.000-05:002010-11-28T18:30:20.165-05:00Haiku #385yellow cat<br />
walking tenderly<br />
over the briarsTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-44866761022786319772010-11-28T18:29:00.000-05:002010-11-28T18:29:23.906-05:00Haiku #384two lazy flies<br />
loop-the-loop<br />
Thanksgiving dayTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-51052921035987184322010-11-03T16:43:00.001-04:002010-11-03T16:43:56.863-04:00Strange HotelThis post is part of an ongoing effort to make sense of my dreams:<br />
<br />
I was in a strange city, staying in a beautiful hotel. My room was beautiful, but suddenly I had two roommates. They were young women, and talkative. I left the room to get some peace. I went outside. My husband and youngest son, Brian were there. Brian was about twelve. We all decided to go for a walk to a playground. The playground was down a long gravel road. We stopped short because we saw a baby crocodile walking up the road. There was another animal in the bushes, very large. In the dream we called it a badger, but I don't know what it was. To the right were homes, and I heard a mother calling a young child. I thought, what a dangerous place for children. <br />
<br />
The part that I left out: When I first entered the room, there was a beautiful young African-American woman on my bed. She was masturbating. I shouldn't have left this part out, because I think it says something about vitality. I was talking about vitality in one of my classes that day. And, symbolically, sex is vitality. <br />
<br />
Also, I had shown <em>The Power of Myth</em> to my Imaginative Writing class. Afterwards, my friend Sally and I had talked about mothering by example, showing children how to be compassionate in a world that is sometimes dangerous and cruel. Sally and I had also talked about vitality. About participating fully in the world, as Joseph Campbell discusses in <em>Power of Myth. </em>Theresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-43241643388050938112010-10-23T00:23:00.001-04:002010-10-23T03:20:03.909-04:00Haiku #383a late snack <br />
rattle <br />
of an evening trainTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-24295454347696483902010-10-22T22:14:00.000-04:002010-10-22T22:14:31.858-04:00Haiku #382a still night<br />
the mouse trap rattles<br />
then doesn'tTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-56038915195053610762010-10-22T22:13:00.000-04:002010-10-22T22:13:21.815-04:00Haiku #381his illness<br />
her beloved flower beds<br />
gone to weedsTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-75136488977570216382010-10-22T22:12:00.001-04:002010-10-22T23:38:30.329-04:00Haiku #380hunger<br />
a cat meets me <br />
after my long day at workTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-20336011422793028582010-10-22T22:08:00.000-04:002010-10-22T22:08:59.489-04:00Haiku #379not good as the last one<br />
a slice of pie <br />
after a bad dayTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-71370194889927071622010-10-22T22:06:00.002-04:002010-10-22T22:06:54.870-04:00Haiku #378shutting a book<br />
a pause<br />
before turning out the lightTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-46898921512170341982010-10-22T22:05:00.000-04:002010-10-22T22:05:45.251-04:00Haiku #377not yet too cold<br />
brown field<br />
a buzzard soarsTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-52918729746567959722010-10-22T22:02:00.000-04:002010-10-22T22:02:28.218-04:00Haiku #376full moon and rabbits<br />
late night trip to the woodpile<br />
the dog comes alongTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-25505910064444459452010-10-22T22:00:00.000-04:002010-10-22T22:00:58.683-04:00Haiku #375October 21<br />
the strangeness<br />
of leaves still greenTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-3486845507620831492010-10-22T21:59:00.000-04:002010-10-22T21:59:28.842-04:00Haiku #374autumn wind--<br />
in the waving of the grass<br />
my whole lifeTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032705.post-68686502457246299292010-10-20T23:50:00.000-04:002010-10-20T23:50:05.187-04:00Haiku #373we hurry home <br />
to drink it warm<br />
first jug of ciderTheresa Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00103717736011804799noreply@blogger.com0