Day and Night
When the sun finally arrives
he hands out flowers on street corners.
He springs from sprouting bushes,
indiscriminately molesting members of the public.
He forcibly removes the fur coats
from off the backs of old women.
He wears an orange sandwich board
and shimmies up the main street.
He climbs, in his royal naked nudity,
through the high windows of churches.
He licks the gaudy golden belt buckles
on the waists of garish girls, until
the moon, in a white coat,
with bald head and round rimless glasses,
pulls up in a van, and prowls
behind the torch of himself.
If you've any comments on this poem, Stephen Brown would be
pleased to hear from you.