poem 1.

Poem about Art and first thursdays, here in East Larndan. First Thursdays. It Was The ..first thursday of the month That Saw People plodding painfully past Pictures and in stal ations. Arty things, farty things, projects that shouldn't be seen, projects that should be seen. Galleries filled with the sartorially inclined, sarcastically imbued. Cynically suggesting that "the curatorial mood of the space is disingenuous to the artists meaning" But to my kin and I, it is a chance to drink free wine. And to exclaim loudly, proudly, ignorantly, "well, this is basically bullshit"