Myself thinking

About how my tallboy is like
one of the lilies of the field.
And the contentedness of the
chest of drawers from Dad’s
farm I’ve just done up is out
of one of the stories Jesus told.

Above it is a landscape sparked
by Andrew Wyeth’s “Christina”
the painting of a crippled lady
reaching out.
Hammer on the floor, this is a
workman’s painting about the
immense pleasure there is making
things beautiful.
I’m very glad that Jim and Julia
Traue bought this painting. I
worked in the art room of the
Turnbull Library, on a variety of
temporary employment schemes.

I wonder if the fat dossier of Jim’s
rehiring me each time I was fired
is still around? These days I
feel very pessimistic about people
with disabilities being able to get
jobs. Especially fulfilling ones.