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)
(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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