Art from nothing spectacular smacks of plain arrogance, but it ain’t meant to be that particular way

Endlessly driven to difficult ordeal and this female solo-show knows one such meandering route to recklessly misbehave

Quantifiabl-y estranged, in plain-sight of view only out of wreck-tangular reach – her hiding utensils have been screening the scram of the early-morning sunrise

Brought back to ethereal life by the divide of the nocturnal delight – when two become one preparatory thing all over again
Sing it from these sleepy-headed rooftops which lie predominantly overhead, please

Oh gently press the inner-workings of your bohemian brain softly against me whilst I’ve been sleeping all on my bothersome own again… I’ve been thinking, and this pen of mine appears to be but an empty-faced version of these decidedly better things

No colour but for bare-naked creation – tilted ‘n’ wastefully placed
Til wondrously wedged
Upon that godforsaken sinking, waging page

What if, for a West Cork based minute, I had your visual ability and you get to keep all of me?