saansaturday: (further back and faster)
( Tuesday, 18 October 2005 12:34)
by Harry Crosby

            I am the criminal whose chest is tattooed with a poinard above which are graven the words "mort aux bourgeois." Let us each tattoo this on his heart.
            I am the soldier with a red mark on my nakedness -- when in a frenzy of love the mark expands to spell Mad Queen. Let us each tattoo our Mad Queen on his heart.
            I am the prophet from the land of the Sun whose back is tattooed in the design of a sun rising. Let us each tattoo a rising sun on his heart.
saansaturday: (madness)
( Tuesday, 18 October 2005 12:24)
Illustrations of Madness
by Harry Crosby


As boys lift a kite in the air so there is lifted into my brain the word Explosion which explodes and explodes in the intellect for hours at a time and no matter how much I wish to direct my mind to other objects and banish the explosions I find myself unable to do so because the word keeps exploding in my mind to the exclusion of all other thoughts. I am during the entire time aware that the explosion is subconscious and does not belong to the train of my own cognitions.


I can cause good sense to appear as insanity, distort the wisest institutions of civilized society into the practices of barbarians and strain Christianity into a jest book.


My heart is a madhouse for the twin lunatics of her eyes.


I rejoice in that dangerous automatic liberty which deprives man of the volition which constitutes him a being responsible for his actions.


I continuously feel hurricanes of magic storming into me as wild and as insane as eagles catapulting themselves into the Sun.


I have heard for days and nights on end the reverberations crashing in my head of all the skyscrapers and buildings of the world, the reverberation of the crashing of ships in the fog at sea, the reverberation of the crashing of iron thoughts on the cold floor of the brain.


There is in me the infernal fury of the Sun by means of which I practice atrocities on the Philistines. The operation of my fury is instantaneous and I leave them to the malignity of my scorn and ridicule.


All compromise with me is impossible.


The inward nerves of my vision are beyond the sentiments of my heart and have no communication with the operations of my intellect. I boast of having effected this in a very complete manner by having caught and distilled certain rays of light from the Sun.


Because of a machine of light in my brain, because of the interpretation of a wall of words ( amor   fire   velocity   invulnerability ). Because of the spells and incantations of a sorceress, I am beyond the force of assailment. In order to ascertain whether this be true or not let them decapitate me. They will find a hollow shell where once the arrow burned. It will have gone to Ra.
saansaturday: (fornication)
( Tuesday, 17 August 2004 12:23)

I believe in the eradication of the past (New Every Morning), in the power of the word and the word of power (the word of power which I want to possess is that word the utterance of which shall enable me to recreate myself), in the invulnerability of the heart, in the three great elements of an attack (surprise, rapidity, continuity), in the half sane, half insane madness and illumination of the seer, in the fire and velocity of comets, in the arrows that point to Ra.

by Harry Crosby
(For W.V.R.B.)

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.

Tenth, I give and bequeathe to Icarus a sunshade and a word of introduction to the Moon.

Eleventh, I give and bequeathe to Horus (Egyptian Hor) the falcon-headed solar divinity a thousand sun-hawks from my aviary to be mummified in his honor.

Twelfth, I give and bequeathe to Amenophus IV of Egypt my golden gourd that his thirst for me may be assuaged.

Thirteenth, I give and bequeathe to Renofer, High Priest of the Sun, my shares in Electric Horizens and Corona Preferred.

Fourteenth, I give and bequeathe to Louis XIV of France, Le Roi Soleil, my gold peruke.

Fifteenth, I give and bequeathe to Arthur Rimbaud a red sunsail.

Sixteenth, I give and bequeathe to my charioteer Phaeton my chariot of the sun and my chariot-horses Erythous Acteon Lampos Philogeus.

Seventeenth, I give and bequeathe to each of the Virgins of the Sun in Peru, to each and every citizen of Heliopolis, to the Teotitmocars of Mexico who built the giant pyramid to the Sun, to each and every of the Incas, to the Hyperboreans dwellers in the land of perpetual sunshine and great fertility beyond the north wind, my halo, rainbows and mirages, to the Surya-bans and the Chandra-bans of India to each a sunthought and to my lowly subject the Earth ten centuries of sunrays.

Eighteenth, I give and bequeathe likewise to the Japanese Flag whose center is a Red Sun and to the flags of Persia (the Lion and the Sun) and to the flags of Uraguay and Argentine my fiery flames and furious commotion.

Nineteenth, I give and bequeathe to all the inns, cabarets, bars, taverns, bordels whose ensign is the Sun, pieces of brocaded sunlight.

Twentieth, I give and bequeathe sunbonnets to various high monuments in particular the Eiffel Tower, the Woolworth Building, and to an imaginary tower built by the combined height of the phalluses of men.

Twenty-First, I give and bequeathe to Apollo of Greece a temple of the sun to Osiris of Egypt a temple of the sun to Indra of India a temple of the Sun this legacy is over and above any and all commissions to which they may be entitled as executors.

Twenty-Second, All the rest residue and remainder of my estate of whatsoever kind and nature, wheresoever situated, not specifically given or bequeathed hereinabove, including any and all void or lapsed legacies or bequests, I give, devise and bequeathe to Mithra of the Persians and to Surya of the Hindus, or to the survivor with the request that they establish therewith a fund for Sun-Birds (i.i. poets) to be organized and administered by them in their sole discretion and judgement, this fund to be known as the Sun and Moon Fund for Sun-Birds.

Twenty-Third, I hereby nominate, constitute and appoint Osiris of Egypt Apollo of Greece and Indra of India Executors of this my last will and testament.

In witness thereof, I have herewith set my hand and seal to this holographic will, entirely written and dated and signed by me at my Castle of Clouds this nineteenth day of January nineteen hundred and twenty eight.

Signed : The Sun

Signed, sealed, published and declared by The Sun, the Testator above named as and for his last Will and Testament in the presence of us who at his request and in his presence and in the presence of each other have hereunto subscribed our names as witnesses thereto.

Hu of the Druids
Ptah of the Egyptians
Vitzliputsli of the Mexicans

by Harry Crosby
saansaturday: (Default)
( Saturday, 27 December 2003 13:06)
One poem for every two years I've been alive :)

Y fue a esa edad... Llegó la poesía a buscarme.
No sé, no sé de dónde salió,
de invierno o río.
No sé cómo ni cuándo,
no, no eran voces, no eran palabras, ni silencio,
pero desde una calle me llamaba,
desde las ramas de la noche,
de pronto entre los otros,
entre fuegos violentos
o regresando solo,
allí estaba sin rostro
y me tocaba.

Yo no sabía qué decir, mi boca no sabía nombrar,
mis ojos eran ciegos,
y algo golpeaba en mi alma,
fiebre o alas perdidas,
y me fui haciendo solo,
descifrando aquella quemadura,
y escribí la primera línea vaga,
vaga, sin cuerpo, pura tontería,
pura sabiduría
del que no sabe nada,
y vi de pronto el cielo desgranado
y abierto, planetas,
plantaciones palpitantes,
la sombra perforada,
acribillada por flechas, fuego y flores,
la noche arrolladora, el universo.

Y yo, mínimo ser,
ebrio del gran vacío constelado,
a semejanza, a imagen del misterio,
me sentí parte pura del abismo,
rodé con las estrellas,
mi corazón se desató en el viento.

Pablo Neruda

saansaturday: (Default)
( Saturday, 27 December 2003 13:02)
(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.

Harry Crosby

saansaturday: (Default)
( Saturday, 27 December 2003 12:55)
Los laberintos
que crea el tiempo,
se desvanecen.

(Sólo queda
el deseirto.)

El corazón,
fuente del deseo,
se desvanece.

(Sólo queda
el deseirto.)

La ilusión de la aurora
y los besos,
se desvanecen.

Sólo queda
el desierto.
Un ondulado

Federico García Lorca

saansaturday: (Default)
( Saturday, 27 December 2003 12:48)
            El silencio redondo de la noche
sobre el pentágrama
del infinito.

            Yo me salgo desnudo a la calle,
maduro de versos
Lo negro, acribillado
por el canto del grillo,
tiene ese fuego fatuo,
del sonido.
Esa luz musical
que percibe
el espíritu.

            Los esqueletos de mil mariposas
duermen en mi recinto.

            Hay una juventud de brisas locas
sobre el río.

Federico García Lorca

saansaturday: (Default)
( Saturday, 27 December 2003 12:24)
Crow thought of a palace--
Its lintel crashed on him, his bones were found.

Crow thought of a fast car--
It plucked his spine out, and left him empty and armless.

Crow thought of the wind's freedom--
And his eyes evaporated, the wind whistled over the Turkish Saddle.

Crow thought of a wage--
And it choked him, it was cut unspoiled from his dead stomach.

Crow thought of the soft and warm that is long remembered--
It blindfolded him with silk, it gangplanked him into a volcano.

Crow thought of intelligence--
It turned the key against him and he tore at its fruitless bars.

Crow thought of nature's stupor--
And an oak tree grew out of his ear.

A row of his black children sat in the top.
They flew off.

Never again moved.

Ted Hughes

saansaturday: (Default)
( Saturday, 27 December 2003 12:15)
When the pistol muzzle oozing blue vapour
Was lifted away
Like a cigarette lifted from an ashtray

And the only face left in the world
Lay broken
Between hands that relaxed, being too late

And the trees closed forever
And the streets closed forever

And the body lay on the gravel
Of the abandoned world
Among abandoned utilities
Exposed to infinity forever

Crow had to start searching for something to eat.

Ted Hughes

This is the poem that has been in my head for the past four months. Every time I read it I fall more deeply in love with it. If you can read German, you are lucky. If not, I am very sorry.

So angestrengt wider die starke Nacht
werfen sie ihre Stimmen ins Gelächter,
das schlecht verbrennt. O aufgelehnte Welt
voll Weigerung. Und atmet doch den Raum,
in dem die Sterne gehen. Siehe, dies
bedürfte night und könnte, der Entfernung
fremd hingegeben, in dem Übermaß
von Fernen sich ergehen, fort von uns.
Und nun geruhts und reicht uns ans Gesicht
wie der Geliebten Aufblick; schlägt sich auf
uns gegenüber und zerstreut veilleicht
an uns sein Dasein. Und wir sinds nicht wert.
Vielleicht entziehts den Engeln etwas Kraft,
daß nach uns her der Sternenhimmel nachgiebt
und uns hereinhängt ins getrübte Shicksal.
Umsonst. Denn wer gewahrts? Und wo es einer
gewärtig wird: wer darf noch an den Nacht-Raum
die Stirne lehnen wie ans eigne Fenster?
Wet hat dies nicht verleugnet? Wer hat nicht
in dieses eingeborne Element
gefälschte, schlechte, nachgemachte Nächte
hereingeschleppt und sich daran begnügt?
Wir lassen Götter stehn um gohren Abfall,
denn Götter locken nicht. Sie haben Dasein
und nichts als Dasein, Überfluß von Dasein,
doch nicht Geruch, nicht Wink. Nichts ist so stumm
wie eines Gottes Mund. Schön wie ein Schwan
auf seiner Ewigkeit grundlosen Fläche:
so zieht der Gott und taucht und schont sein Weiß.

Alles verführt. Der kleine Vogel selbst
tut Zwang an uns aus seinem reinen Laubwerk,
die Blume hat nicht Raum und drängt herüber;
was will der Wind nicht alles? Nur der Gott,
wie eine Säule, läßt vorbei, verteilend
hoch oben, wo er trägt, nach beiden Seiten
die leichte Wölbung seines Gleichmuts.

Rainer Maria Rilke

There is a solitude of space
A solitude of sea
A solitude of death, but these
Society shall be
Compared with that profounder site
That polar privacy
A soul admitted to itself -
Finite infinity.

Emily Dickinson

saansaturday: (Default)
( Saturday, 27 December 2003 11:36)
Drab Habitation of Whom?
Tabernacle or Tomb -
Or Dome of Worm -
Or Porch of Gnome -
Or some Elf's Catacomb?

Emily Dickinson



saansaturday: (Default)
Saan Saturday


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