Being the sun human, it swallows the other stars and absorbs the moon
Then walks into the wind and snow dancing to the sounds of children playing

Sprouting the grass frigid, it dissects the naked limbs and falls off the rain
Then runs throughout the dead and blue swinging in the proper Atlantic gushing

Blushing the cheeks captured, it reveals the prophet partner and knows what you feel
Then talks around the connection touching like a snake eats it’s tail thinking

Shooting the star hands, it wrestles the magnet sun and consoles the earth
Then kisses along the fire and ice sleeping by the home of music building

Teaching the ears heard, it predicts the written word and catches the leaves
Then prays under the love and limbs reading aloud the joys of spirit swimming


Andrew Borne is 2 Cups Poet 1 teaspoon Musician 1/4 teaspoon Salt 1/2 cup Absurdity 3/4 cup Chef 1 egg, beaten 2 1/3 cups Family Man. Mixed together and served raw. His column 7x appears weekly in Oddball Magazine