Out of the cornucopia
Plenteous with its seeds
Spiraling down and out
Of warblers� mouths,
Frogs hopping off the wicker, greens
Fresh-picked and tight-wrapped
In orange rubber bands,
Out of the holy copious
Genders, genders of suns, genders of splittings,
Mute desexualized numericals,
Spendthrifts, purely
Ordered oracular shouts in the middle of zones
Of extreme unction, unusual moves
Of just-invented ballets, belletristic
Missiles of mischievous meanderings �
The wet blue stream which drains from its throat,

Ripe apples, purple eggplants, yellow gourds
Poking out of the hole of the cornucopia,
Good stuff coming out of it,
Not always sensible, not always sensate,
You among them, boisterous frogs
With chilly legs, lemons, viands, paid bills,

Out of the source of healthiness in this world:
Out of this tumult more tumult,
A chameleon on a rainbow
Grows confused.



�2005 by Jack Anders