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
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Hmm...it still looks pretty green out there though it is supposed to be begging of winter soon!
P.S: I have made an attempt to write a drabble. Please let me know what you think. It is on this link:
http://priyankas-point.blogspot.com/
claustrophobic?
that was diction... hahhaha
i am glad that most people think that my fiction work is REAL... i think that makes me a good writer :)
Perhaps you would want another of my ex jobs. Southern Surveyor. She at least was an ex North Sea trawler. You should have seen her. S
he docks at the C.S.I.R.O. wharf.
Anyway the call is yours.