giraffe in my garden in a garland of aloes

i searched for a halo but found only spears

dipped in the blood of the eye of the sky

the sun in my tree (thorn crown it adorned)

wind through my palms (song of gold it performed)  

tree tops shimmy green on blue up high

happy jiggles upward with leaves that wriggle and sigh

grasses pushpush spiking small dust devils

making sunbirds dizzy in trees that rest

shaded picasso puzzle doodles

through lemon-bronze and saffron-cream fields  

i breathe in soil

it is all in the smell where i sense you

(my deep my joy)

could i feed you to africa  

no hunger here then no pain nor fear

this land would come up tasty oatmeal crunch

pliant with strength and moistly golden sweet

no bleedy groin from barbed wire trip

no salty insanity goinggoing gone

and giraffe with red rocket chain

totters on lightest tiptoes  

plump are the leaves purpletongue-plucked

there is a field of you where i plough my thoughts

it lies left of the tree where the giraffe pinches leaves

                 with a nimble tongue

                                                   through the small thorns

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