Apocalypse Neigh
a poem
Fig 1) How do you sketch the forelegs and withers of a horse at extended canter that has just cratered the side of a people carrier?
Fig 2) Pro tip. Some people are inclined to draw limp-legged unicorns. As the tail fans to red, get out your long lens to capture the bold Verrocchio view, across the barrel between raised hocks along sturdy flanks towards the hi vis of the gaping cyclist.
Fig 3) Gaze in awe at the vast spider web smash on the darkened windscreen of the double-decker — while the black horse, dripping lyrical blood, stands by, dazed — as if he’s already back in the paddock.
Fig 4) Do not draw from a photograph if you have no comprehension of those invisible powers working in harness. This is just the raw unstoppable hurtling of equine distress clattering through the capital.
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Commentator’s Note. Startled in Belgravia by some builders’ rubble tumbling down a chute, the leader bolts and others follow suit. One of the horses is called Tennyson and he’s just thrown the Poet Laureate, who can be glimpsed on the six o’clock news, nosebag still attached, spreadeagled on a traffic island, spurs clinquant.
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(Fig 5) Bloodied and riderless, we gallop with the ringleaders from Aldwych to the Strand and on to Limehouse pursued…
