rapt perambulation
tame heptameter

Uhoh! The clouds ganged up and overcame the sun. The clouds are rolling
the sun, under cover of clouds. They're rifling her pockets, feeling her
up, slobbering on her golden neck and shoulders, plucking her gold chains
and bangles. They're robbing her nude! She'll return like a jewel, a
breast of fire.

Overhead,
the stars rebel

Democracy for the stars
Was probably a poor idea
We can civilize the spiral arms
But the center will never hold