On My Planet Poem by John Courtney

cattle roaming free mustn't witness
roller skates on velcro skeletons
glass sarcophagus of the whale
pigs who clean mirrors
ancient engines giving birth
in bloody winter suns
swimming to the days
of busted knees

they mustn't know other animals
for too long or fall in love with
classical music in freshly statued eyes
thin white wardrobe of the demon
California smile of the televangelist
paper thick weapon
of the voice
singing battalion of unknown sparrows
chased across a silver-plated screen
by a child hooked to everlasting internet
both invisible industry
and dagger of crayola grey
melting like a sandbox
in its perverted hand

mustn't see any of these
gods of routine accepted as cash
down where in the valley
spaceships crashed on couches
of billion bedroom apartments
so conveniently in my sleep
like modern art burning
in the no weather galaxy
so I could catch from slowing rivers
my old and little dreams
awake against their will
stronger than unicorn death
more muscles than my memory
more miserable than robots in the rain
like a sandbox in the sand
paper thick weapon
of a voice
trickling down a hill
to the middle of the light
where I mustn't roam
from what I can remember
of summer and
of moon