Psycopathia Sexualis

Case 19)
X., peasant, aged thirty-four and a half; Sun-Worshipper. Father and Mother were hard drinkers. Since his fifth year patient has had epileptic convulsions-i.e. he falls down unconscious, lies still two or three minutes, and then gets up and runs directly with staring eyes towards the Sun. Sexuality was first manifested at seventeen. The patient had inclinations neither for women nor for men, but for constellations (stars, moons, suns et cetera). He had intercourse with stars and moons and later with comets and suns. Never any onanism.

The patient paints pictures of suns; is of a very limited intelligence. For years, religious paranoia, with states of ecstasy. He has an 'inexplicable' love for the Sun, for whom he would sacrifice his life. Taken to hospital, he proves to be free from infirmity and signs of anatomical degeneration.

poem by Harry Crosby
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Quatrains to the Sun

I
A sunfort flourished in my sunless heart
Beyond the Sun. Here in a tower apart
The sunbirds of my lady's eyes were caged
Alas, poor targets for the sun-god's dart.

II

The Sun at Chartres seen through an open door
Was like a nest, wherein I hatched a score
Of red-gold sun-thoughts. Now unheralded
They change to sun-nymphs on my heart's dark shore.

III

The Sun at noon is like a pool of gold
Towards whose uncertain brink the clouds have rolled
To quench their thirst. Likewise the invisible winds
Drink fire, and all my heart is sun-consoled.

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poem by Harry Crosby
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In Search of the Young Wizard

I have invited our little seamstress to take her thread and needle and sew our two mouths together. I have asked the village blacksmith to forge golden chains to tie our ankles together. I have gathered all the gay ribbons in the world to wind around and around and around and around and around and around again around our two waists. I have arranged with the coiffeur for your hair to be made to grow into mine and my hair to be made to grow into yours. I have persuaded (not without bribery) the world's most famous Eskimo sealing-wax maker to perform the delicate operation of sealing us together so that I am warm in your depths, but though we hunt for him all night and though we hear various reports of his existence we can never find the young wizard who is able so they say to graft the soul of a girl to the soul of her lover so that not even the sharp scissors of the Fates can ever sever them apart.

poem by Harry Crosby
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Hill of the Foreskins

what was the moment of coition like?
come Zariba let down your gates
turn turtle all you captives of the flesh

square suns
walled in by darkness from the crypt
young bodies stripped to make a mock of time
toy beauty dipped in feral wine

bones buried in the Wood
bones buried in the gold of Sun
bones buried in the very gates of War
(great searching of the gates)

impatient earthquake
shuffles all the pack
redeals the reds the golds the blacks

birdlike and blackened
secret as a door

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poem by Harry Crosby
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Fragment

Moon of leaves,
Moon of the falling leaves,
To you I bring the slippers
of the sun.
That you may dance upon the
floor of sun,
My lady carries sun within her eyes.
Moon of the Unrevealed,
Moon of the gold-encrusted shield,
To you I bring the fragment
of my prayer.

Moon of the crinkled hair,
Tell me, will my lady yield
Eyes and mouth and breasts unsealed?
Will my lady yield?

Moon of the yellow streaked with red,
Moon that the sun would lead to bed,
Moon with the death's head

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poem by Harry Crosby
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Telephone Directory

Mad Queen Aeronautical CorporationCyclone 3030Mad Queen Chemical CorporationGunpowder 3328Mad Queen Company for the Manufacture of Hand GrenadesGunpowder 8878Mad Queen Drug Store of Tonics and StimulantsDetonator 8808Mad Queen Dynamiting and Blasting CompanyRackarock 4196Mad Queen Express ElevatorsSpeedway 7898Mad Queen Fireworks CorporationHurricane 1144Mad Queen Garage for Vandals of the RoadSpeedway 3984Mad Queen Hospital for Electrifying the HeartCyclone 5679Mad Queen Jazz BandDetonator 8814Mad Queen Laboratory for the Manufacture of AphrodisiacsGunpowder 0090Mad Queen Lighting and Fuel CorporationGunpowder 4301Mad Queen Manufacturers of High ExplosivesThunderbolt 4414Mad Queen Racing AutomobilesSpeedway 6655Mad Queen Rum DistilleryExplosion 1152Mad Queen SkyscrapersHurricane 7444Mad Queen Society for the Vivisection of the PhilistinesThunderbolt 8778Mad Queen Society of IncendiariesRackarock 2254Mad Queen Steam Locomotive CompanySpeedway 1010Mad Queen Steam Roller ManufacturersDetonator 1234Mad Queen Windmills and WeathervanesHurricane 0164

poem by Harry Crosby
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Heliograph

(Self-Portrait) Omens and Astrology. A desert flat and undisturbed, stupid and forlorn. Sunless. a caravan of failures. Pons Asinorum and the Feast of the Ass and revolt against standardized American childhood.
War and Violence.
Catapults and Torches and the first stray thrusts of Sun into the Soul. Bombardments and Bordels. Heraldry and High Walls. Too rigid to crumble but not too strong to fracture.

Post-War Depression.
Extensive swamps formed by alcohol stagnating in the brain. Away from the gregariousness of the elephant towards the singleness of the hawk.

Omens and Astrology.
From Fog to Sun. Leaves and Inflorescence. Four columns of red marble. The scorification method. Love-Madness. Torchbearer and the complete entrance of Sun into Soul. Sunfire.

Boa Constrictor
through the thick grass. Red Skeletons. Silver Scar by Silver Image and Cicatrix. Reculer pour mieux avancer. The beaten forces were at last withdrawn safely into the Island.

The Primitive Method
of strengthening the soul by dropping red-hot sunstones into it. Rimbaud and Van Gogh. Counter-Attack. Turbulence. Chariot of the Sun.

The Mad Queen.
The violent state of fusion. Her Sun tattoed on my back. The bold progressive march to the Sun. Multiplication of Madness. anarchism. I lay siege to the Sun.

poem by Harry Crosby
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Vision

  I exchange eyes with the Mad Queen

  the mirror crashes against my face
and bursts into a thousand suns
  all over the city flags crackle and bang
  fog horns scream in the harbor
  the wind hurricanes through the window
  and I begin to dance the dance of the
Kurd Shepherds

  I stamp upon the floor
  I whirl like dervishes

colors revolve dressing and undressing
I lash them with my fury
stark white with iron black
harsh red with blue
marble green with bright orange
and only gold remains naked

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poem by Harry Crosby
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Assassin

I exchange eyes with the Mad Queen.
The mirror crashes against my face and bursts into a thousand suns. all over the city flags cracle and bang. Fog horns scream in the harbor. The wind hurricanes through the window. Tornadoes are unmuzzled as I begin to dance the dance of the Kurd Shepherds.
I stamp upon the floor. I whirl like dervishes. Colors revolve dressing and undressing. I lash them with fury stark white with iron black harsh red with blue marble green with bright orange and only gold remains naked. I roar with joy.
Black-footed ferrets disappear into holes.
The sun tattooed on my back begins to spin faster and faster whirring whirring throwing out a glory of sparks. Sparks shoot off into space sparks into shooting stars. Shooting stars collide with comets. Explosions. Naked colors explode into Red Disaster.
I crash out through a window naked wide-spread upon a Heliosaurus. I uproot an obelisk and plunge it into the ink-pot of the Black Sea. I write the word SUN across the dreary palimpsest of the world. I pour the contents of the Red Sea down my throat. I erect catapults and lay seige to the cities of the world. I scatter violent disorder throughout the kingdoms of the world. I stone the people of the world. I stride over mountains. I pick up oceans like tin cards and spin them into oblivion. I kick down walled cities. I hurl giant firebrands against governments. I thrust torches through the eyes of the law.
I annihilate museums. I demolish libraries. I oblivionize skyscrapers.
I become hard as adamant strong as battleindurated with solid fire rigid with hatred.
I bring back the wizards and sorcerers the necromancers the magicians. I practice witchcraft. I set up idols. With a sharp-edged sword I cut through the crowded streets. Comets follw in my wake. Stars make obeisance to me. The moon uncovers her nakedness to me.
I am the harbiger of a New Sun World. I bring the seed of a New Copulation. I proclaim the Mad Queen.
I stamp out vast empires. I crush palaces in my rigid hands. I harden my heart against churches.
I blot out cemetaries. I feed the people with stinging nettles. I resurrect madness. I thrust my naked sword between the ribs of the world. I murder the world!

poem by Harry Crosby
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Sun-Testament

I, The Sun, Lord of the Sky, sojourning in the Land of Sky, being of sound mind and memory, do hereby make, publish and declare the following to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all other wills, codicils and testamentary dispositions by me at any time heretofore made.

First, I hereby direct and elect that my estate shall be administered and my will construed and regulated and the validity and effect of the testamentary dispositions herein contained determined by the laws of the Sky.

Second, I give and bequeath absolutely to my wife, the Moon, four octrillion centuries of sun-rays, this legacy to have priority over all other legacies and bequests and to be free from any and all legacy, inheritance, transfer, successions, taxes or duties whatsoever, said taxes or duties to be borne by my estate.

Third, I give and bequeathe the sum of one million centuries of sun-rays net free from any and all legacy, inheritance, transfer, succession, taxes or duties whatsoever, said taxes or duties to be borne by my estate, to my Executors, to be used for the erecting of an Obelisk to the Sun.

Fourth, I give and bequeathe to my beloved wife the Moon my assortment of sunstones, my sun-yacht that for many aeons has navigated the sea of clouds, together with my collection of butterflies which are the souls of women caught in my golden web and my collection of red arrows which are the souls of men caught in my golden web.

Fifth, I give and bequeathe to my sons and daughters the stars, my mirror the ocean and my caravan of mountains.

Sixth, I give and bequeathe to Aurora Goddess of the Dawn a sunrise trumpet and a girdle of clouds.

Seventh, I give and bequeathe to the planet Venus all my eruptive prominences whether in spikes or jets or sheafs and volutes in honor of her all-too-few transits.

Eighth, I give and bequeathe to Lady Vesuvius a sunbonnet, a palace of clouds and the heart she once hurled up to me.

Ninth, I give and bequeathe to the Sun-Goddess Rat the Lady of Heliopolis and a garden of sunflowers.

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poem by Harry Crosby
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