Somus and The March Hare.

Or I should say, was.

About Dancing on Frozen Beaver Ponds. Sign up to receive new posts via email. Sign up to receive new posts via email. Join 1,140 other followers. Dancing on Frozen Beaver Ponds. Create a free website or blog at WordPress.

Somehow no one rumbled that I snuck onto a Killings columnist roster that otherwise contained nothing but champs. My final column for Kill Your Darlings is an interview.

Welcome to contemporary Australian and international poets, along with my own work. I want to encourage a cross-pollination of ideas and mutual appreciation and urge poets to hurl their words far and wide. Teaching English was my passion for many years and that seems to have morphed into a love of writing in all genres, mainly poetry. I shifted to the coast five years ago and put all my energy into writing full time and creating a sanctuary for trees, bees and small birds.

This was a New War. It has a new scale of reference. Vast, vicious and unforgiving. Death for millions will be anonymous. Machine gun arbitrary and indiscriminate. Shelled and shocked, barraged and buried. No whole corpse to recognise as human. No remains to mourn and grieve. Just rich blood and bone for Poppies. Landscape resculpted to barest bone. Every old tree and young bush uprooted.