Friedrich and the Horse

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In 1889, a handsome crowd gathered 

On a dusty sidewalk in Italy. 

They formed into a tight knot 

To watch the great commotion: 

The horse-drawn cart came to a sudden halt 

Right there on the street. 

The horse simply refused to move, 

And it did so for no good reason. 

A scene unfolded quickly. 

The driver, now immobile, shouted, cursed, 

And jumped down from his cart and onto the street 

Where he bellowed and spat 

And kicked at the horse 

With Dionysian rage. 

When the horse still remained unmoved, 

When it stood there, stoically frozen, 

The man unclasped his whip, 

And he lashed into the horse until strips of pink flesh fell 

Exposing the ribs and tendons below. 

Perhaps the horse would have died 

Were it not for the madman 

Who bolted from the crowd and ran to it. 

The crowd watched as the 

Madman charged into the street 

Where he clasped the horse's neck 

And howled into the chaos 

With no dancing stars. 

They say the madman buckled under the weight 

Of his own sorrow 

And he never returned.

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For you, I sometimes imagine Friedrich Nietzsche 

In those first moments after they pulled him away 

From the horse on the street 

And brought him to stay at the hospital. 

He had the thought I thought. 

He had the dreams you dream. 

Later, historians blamed syphilis 

For infecting his brain; 

Later still, historians refuted claims of syphilis 

And invoked the ghost of psychosis. 

I blame the four horsemen.

In any event, Nietzsche spent the last decade of his life 

Tangled in a sort of spider's web. 

I think he answered the hexagonal riddle

And fell into the orb-webbed center.

The Whorle pins clasped 

And wove a shroud 

To fill most of his divinest senses 

In a cocoon on the web: 

Now, the only sense left

Is the vibration of some goblin bee 

Who, when its heard, will not state its sting.

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;yuk,jhgcfdsrtxz/mlnvu.obp

If just to put my name on it...
If just to say I was the first...
My name is .cssc;r r;zs,l
And I have this notion that
Someday someone will think to do the same
And flip it upside down.

If it's you,
Then know this:
I am not the first.

I am a brother. 

You have a brother.

 avcdiefhjijklmn 

;uikc,jffcdsr*