what is it—about the beating—
and whipping—of horses—in
those old books? “Poor horse,”
Fantine sighs in Les Misérables—
as Dahlia calls her pity—absurd—
what is it—Raskolnikov’s night-
mare—in Molchusky’s words—
“Mikolka beat the nag about
the eyes with a shaft, and then finishes
it with a crowbar”—Raskolnikov—
a child in the dream cries—screams—
hugs “the blood-soaked head”—kisses
it—“The cruel deed fills him with 
mystical terror.”—(but too late—
for Raskolnikov—he’s still driven—
to kill—the two old ladies)—what is
it—when Nietzsche in Turin—
we’re in—“real life”—now—
and, according to de Portalès—
Nietzsche saw—“a bully of a carter”—
“striking his horse about the head”—
and the mountain-goat philosopher—
who excoriated pity—as “the mother
of all spiritual vices”—“launched
himself around the animal’s neck
and fervently embraced it”—after
which he signed his letters—as
“The Crucified”—and “Dionysus”—
what is it?—I end up thinking of—
the Houyhnhnms in Gulliver’s Travels—
the rational—civilized—horses—
and how they had no word—for
lying or untruth—they called it—
“the thing which is not.”