Seven Ways of Looking at a Starry Horse

A poem written in response to Izumi Yokoyama’s “Wild Horse,” for an upcoming ekphrasis event.

wild horse

The cosmos has no time
for serious thought.
Only horseplay,
amorphic in a milkbath of dark matter.
A noun fashioned
from the symmetry of wind.
They shoot wild horses, don’t they?
Hungry ghosts cannot be broken,
only fed light
from unknown sources.
Close your eyes. There is no horse.
Only a horse-shaped teardrop
running infinite lengths
to touch grief, its course
the majestic blood-let of dying stars.
If you stare into the horse’s moon-seed eye
long enough,
eventually the horse’s eye closes.
This is not rocket science.
Eternity, a rocking horse,
hinged on the fasting threads
of music unending.
Am I a horse dreaming myself the cosmos,
or the cosmos dreaming through the equine bones
of a wild snorting god, patient and noble?

About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, spoken word performer, and playwright, John Biscello now lives in Taos, New Mexico. He is the author of three novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, and Nocturne Variations, and a collection of stories, Freeze Tag. His fiction and poetry has appeared in: Art Times, nthposition, The Wanderlust Review, Ophelia Street, Caper, Polyphony, Dilate, Militant Roger, Chokecherries, Farmhouse, BENT, The 555 Collective, Instigator, Brass Sopaipilla, The Iconoclast, Adobe Walls, Kansas City Voices, and the Tishman Review. His blog--Notes of an Urban Stray--can be read at Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year.
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