Saturn I (rushed)

Saturn

I

Unwrapped, rode on Saturn with a ring tilt.
                     Went on like a little went river and swallow,
                     whispering thin as he drowns. Wept
                     his discontents hollow until he fell empty through the loose of his belt.
                     There is no longer Music.
                                              \
Unkempt,                                       Wail and what ails him, mad goes on staggered.        [Whose but?]
        coat collar up to here,                [Wing]ing unsung by and by the bank down,            /
        waiting for love like a chandelier.   /It was fell shattering rungs to God's heaven's [pain]
                                             / and sank on with frowns swelling the corpse of his shepherd.
                                    [Whose?]   There is no longer Sun. [Wet], to some thunder withdrawn.
                                                       /                                                \
                  And he is hardly anyone's weatherman.                                                  Born an ersatz phoenix.
        Odd how's the world that odd things don't couple well in it.                                Torn to be fixing this high beam.
        Or is his swim moons-upon-shoulders no use?                                     Lorn (aye!).
        And either way, his heart will carry upstream with kettle-menace                                   Jilting rhyme - brimming:
        to pour a molten morning down this puddle cloud sky.                                                 Run, run, run, arowrow,
                                 (All of Saturn was a picnic sun                                             run, run, run, arowrow...
                                 long an angel wound his hexagon.)                                  Unseemingly, but so is he.
        All of Saturn is decaying of whir and wander:
                                 Aust singsest flutterful,                                   -tick!         -tick!
                                 nonsense empress [butterfly].                   (but!) Only one person can make sense of it all!
        You're as cold as they deliver the weather.           \                               /                  -trrrrrralalala!
        What I'd still give to know the ones and twos of rain, \                             /
        (Make me brilliant and make be they see it.             Twirling light-so-very-likely in my motherless eye.
        Anything but misshapen and odd) laughing and            If only. If only! Why can't there be vanity?
        clapping and feminine fluff all around the rust.                          "If" will make me a lesser man.
        Odd how's the world when you've one thing to tether.                      There is no "If" that will shape you a lesser woman.
        Or is his swim marbles-strung-wild insane?                                                               The question is time.
              Don't leave Saturn to his Cacophony.                                                      ...and I sense failure at bay.
                                                                                  There is no time for poetry
                                                                                  it has to cohere, for once.
                                                                                                              Get on it.