To be stretched out forever,
floating in full gallop,
to have the bright-red saddle fused
always to the smooth white back,
to be impaled, with a slow rise and fall,
on one long gleaming pole...
no wonder the teeth are bared,
the eyes wild and bright,
as if to say, unheard, unlistened to,
bad art! bad art! bad art!
--David Young
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