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
My sound is messed up, I'll have to watch it on BB's computer and see if there is sound!
Management material!
Tash, he might have been cute before people started punching him in the head for a living.
It is funny how all over the world, babies induce people to making the same noises and sounds!
Miles, Gabe Kaplan, renowned pothead. Say it ain’t so Mr Kotter!
I will strongly advise him against management as a career option. It is a mug’s game!
Blognote, a superstar!
April, he does love his exercises.
Priyanka, the thing with Ezra is that just about anything makes him smile. He is very generous in that regard.