There are certain compounds that could cure cancer being patented as we read.
There are barristers in powdered wigs setting precedents that will screw us all.
There are as many quirks in these quintains as there are crocuses in Kent.
There are donkeys on the farm with quittor and elephants in the circus with foot rot.
There are jousters leaning on the rustic quoin corners of churches.


There is a refugee camp child squatting at a soldier’s feet.
There is the quibbling sound of hidden spirits coming through the forest breeze.
There is water continuously babbling down the ancient qanats of Iran.
There are quadrupole magnets focusing charged particle beams in the supercolliders.
There is me, subtly masculine in a qiviut hat with an impassive face.


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 appears weekly in Oddball Magazine.