Horses are often riddles waiting to be worked out ...
—J.B. Cummings, Bart: My Life
School’s out—horses running around in his head
Young strapper leads Comic Court up at dawn-tread
Across common-sense river-sand tracks, to train
The well-bred, the ugly, the gorgeous—but vain
Note each ride, how she moves, calm pats, and oats
fed “Resents whips”, “hates grey males”, “try blinkers
instead” Passion is taking all in; keen—thinking plain
Keeping at it, removing barriers—pain
Horses running ’round in his head
At clocktower, Melbourne Cup horses close head Saintly, a joy ride, cannot be better bred
Let’s Elope, Think Big, Light Fingers—flaring mane
His heart with the horse—on the breadth of blood–
chain Sprinters, gallopers, stayers—swimmers in rain
Winners don’t tire—hit their straps past the red
Horses to work out—fit to race, out of bed
Horses running ’round in his head