Poem: THE START AT THE END

Pity them... The air is thick with their moist chemicals, and atmospheric rivers fill their parch beds of stone dust. Grey ribbons of cloud sink down and crash together, on top of us. This brave new place of techno-crop.

ARTWORK BY MICHAEL BURNS

Most of this work spans a greater time period of my life. I have not placed a timeline for the works. I have painted and drawn most of my life. As a child in Ireland I was always searching for a surface to draw on. I have lived through imagination, and always thrived...