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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