Biography of Theresa Haffner
Theresa Haffner is a 30 year veteran of the Los Angeles poetry wars. She has been editor/publisher of two periodicals, THREADBARE Literary Journal and AFTERSHOCK Magazine, and was regional editor for THE NEW PRESS, a nationally distributed literary magazine from New York. She has published two collections of her poetry, ACHERON and Other Poems (1996) and DIFFERENT DRUM (2003) . Currently she is working on a novel titled RIVER. She also performs as a musician and singer/songwriter with a large body of original work to her credit. She is 62.
Theresa Haffner's Works:
'Acheron and Other Poems' (1996) New Wind Press.
'Different Drum' (2003) New Wind Press.
'Black Star' (2005) New Wind Press.
'surface of the land' (New Wind Press)
'The Case for Wisdom at 5: 00 A.M.' (New Wind Press)
Theresa Haffner Poems
So You Want To Be A Poet?
(for Suzanne Lummis) So you want to be a poet? Not, I guess, if all you want is to write something
The Meaning Of Love
At first love makes you blind, But in the end it teaches you to see. What is the meaning of love? It will not be what you expected.
Dark Side Of Town
we came home on the dark side of town we came home to a deserted rubble of half forgotten memories, children’s toys, fenced yards grown heavy with weeds, and a cold wind blowing
A New Place To Live
We need a new place to live. Alternative environment new pad crib lay up
Oneness. I know there is a oneness
Allen Ginsberg Called Me Long Distance F...
Allen Ginsberg called me long distance from New York.. It woke me from a sound sleep. Groggily I put the receiver to my ear.
Distances. The L.A. poetry scene is all about distances.
1. Bits of newspaper and the tattered remains
'Who listens to classical music, anyway? ' -Bill Bored, 'Urban Contemporary.' structural dawn, vacant skies
Unto all things give the opposite. Unto joy give sorrow. To happiness give regret. Unto laughter give tears. In time of mourning, rejoice.
Have you ever gone out hunting for mushrooms? Or been on a mushroom hunt when you were only a child perhaps with your grandmother or grandfather
In the garden, I saw you. You were more beautiful by far. And I walked with you
on our way to the city we encountered the remains of other travelers whose journeys once traversed our same terrain
In your eyes you are yet forgetful of your true estate.
distant at first
the sound wavering
in the air
carried on a faint
that eddies and shifts
mistaken for sounds
of traffic, obscured
by car horns or children