For a gig, DaVinci drew a warhorse:
our tour guide called it the Gran Cavallo
and wiki adds pseudonym Sforza Horse.
Twenty-four ft. of brass, looming and hollow,
warning that warfare looms for those in his path:
a horse with a message to the bend of his knee.
Like the horse at the bank all twisted in wrath
that made out of copper he cant get free
and might prefer to take walks down to Rupp
and on Vine but he can’t.
 
Meanwhile somewhere else,
under DaVinci’s horse a boy pointed up,
exclaim’d to his brother, uncle, and aunt,
“look! now! before moving on to the falls,
at this horse please just look at the size of his

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