Monday, July 6, 2015
Driving, wondering who he was
Drove past the Boddington mines towards Pinjarra, slowed up on the hills behind a semi carrying a dump truck and a bulldozer, into the jarrah country where every side track is signed for dog baits and dieback. Onto the flatlands of cattle and tuarts. Old flood plains. Road houses. Primary schools. Antique shops. Blokes carrying slabs of beer to their gravelly cars.
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Poetry.
ReplyDeleteKrissy Kneen said to me in 2011 that she didn't get poetry and now she's won the Thomas Shapcott award and published a book of poetry. "What changed?" i asked her. "I reckon you need a lot of emotion." she said. "What about form and line breaks and rhythm?" I said. "I had a good poetry editor." she said. "She mixed it up and helped shape the lines." It's about the death of her grandmother. "Eating My Grandmother: a grief cycle" (and she does). Worth a look.