Thursday, February 28, 2013

Sonnet to Catherine the Great

We all pretty much know about Catherine the Great and horses, right? She was into 'em and more exactly, liked havin' 'em in her. Or so we'd learned in high school Russian History. And I have come across coroboration but never heard or read anything which challenged or contradicted this, On checking up on her death, I once read „apoplexy,“ but this would adequately provide a respectable cover to what my high school teacher told us, namely that the chains broke and she was crushed. Roger that – now fast-forward about 12 years to one of my poetics courses at Naropa in Boulder, after having the honor of being instructed and guided by Allen Ginsberg and Pat Donovan, I now had the pleasure of being inspired by Larry Fagin (Don't know them? Don't worry.) One day he told us to go home and write “an animal sonnet“ for the next day. He didn't explain what he meant by that, no one asked, and no one did it, except me. I knew what damned sonnet was, but – animal? I could only arrive at one thing, and one thing only – and I arrived at it pretty goddamn fast and got to work on it – in about 10 minutes flat I had it. Handed it in, never heard a word. But it went exactly like this:

SONNET
ON THE REMARKABLE DEMISE OF CATHERINE THE GREAT
IN HER BOUDOIR
(Boulder, 1984)

Your swaying hips inspired her desire;
And O, such mane! Who was your noble sire?
The light which flicker'd off your bestial skin
Once lit the regal eye to conscience sin . . .
Your muzzle for to fondle tète-à-tète -
To breathe in, ah! That musk all night and day!
O come my equine lover, tarry not . . .
Nor yet deny me whilst my passion's hot! . . .“
No Russian prince came close to match your gait,
For one tail's sweep she'd grant you her estate.
Small wonder how you won the heart of Kate,
Small wonder she'd attain'd the name of “Great“:
'Twas no small feat by which she met her fate,
Indeed 'twas hooves and all your handsome weight.

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