I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral
Comments
Boise Diva, she seems silent on the matter.
Jim, it made my brain hurt.
Priyanka, as a good husband and comic strip artiste, I was obliged to get permission to post it, as I do with all potentially controversial topics.
Jackie, I am generally at my best at that time. From there, however, it is all downhill.
You need to start putting pressure on The Brother, I've given you two, it is him that is letting the team down...
the boys, i love them fiercely and some days they are delightful and maddening in almost equal quantities. but despite the repetitive, tiring and frustrating parts of parenthood, carrying, giving birth to and caring for a child (and now children) is mindblowingly amazing and something i really love doing.
somehow i think the good bits are harder to articulate in a quick 'home from work' rant than the 'omg my day has been hard vent'.