In dreams I always see horses
bundles farther west
and the blood massacre comes to mind
when they were killed - in the name of progress.

They used to beat a horse in Florence
that the heavy burden could not bear
The Nietzsche nightmare whipped the whip,
the horse owner started beating.

He was carried away in a mad night
the owner killed the old horse
the technique did not stop at perfection
nature always in the other sense.

Nowhere and no more found herds of horses
in the fields and lawns of this world
only through the bronze of boasting legends
and in idiotic horse racing.

Boston 2004

Written by Kolec Traboini on 26/08/19
© K. P. Traboini 2019

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