THE BLUE HORSE

THE BLUE HORSE is an ongoing series of photographs and poems created during wanderlusty times, a diary. It is about freedom and its limits and definition, the sky as roof, exploration impulses and wild grass. Horses are naturally blue, in such world. Some are tamed, some will always resist taming. And there is tremendous beauty in that freedom.

 

 

 

We take for granted
the dilemma of grace;
and grace itself,
like a fractured blacksmith,

tests our patience,
emerging from the sharp

— but quiet
landscape,

longing to taste

star sounds
in skulls.

That night I saw a woman
and a circle:

blooming blue unrest,
as if it were the evening before

life,

lying on its back.

 

 

grass

 

 

FREEDOM IS A BLUE FIRE NAMED VENUS

 

 

 

Liquid machinery of cells

holding back dust

where dogs go drink
after midnight



piles of bodies

and bodies, more bodies
on rock, golden



and shameless horses 

at the front line

inspecting the island

— the space between the sun and



my nerves.

 

 

[ Lying in rosemary bush full of bees on Witches´ Mountain ]

 

1000px - Eva Wollenberg - The Blue Horse - meadow black

 

Virginal moments woven into the silent epidemic of time:
you can finally let yourself feel the shape of your own narrative,
explore the drive to launch your own private comets.

 

 

 

 

Leafy stroke and

dog muscles

on that sweet face of yours.


 

winter forest snow

 

Woman forest leaves

 

 

 

I am an equator throwing up armies 

on beds of mythical proportions. 

Legs are bitten by water horses,

no tangled reins
no,

these are free,
sweat in unison,

tight and clear as
the skyline’s journey
against my fertile jaw.

 

 

 

Alnitak’s horse,
in the pulmonary ridge
of a white swarm,

licks
Heaven’s hands.

 

 

[ Leash burn and stallion rebellion ]