Harry Crosby, Prophet of the Sun

A collection of poems by Harry Crosby. Limited to 100 copies.

In 1991, when traveling through Austin, an associate of mine gave me a tattered sheet that held 3 nearly unreadable Crosby poems. They transfixed me. I traveled the country copying poems from libraries and rare bookstores and eventually moved to Carbondale, IL. to gain access to the Caresse Crosby papers at Southern Illinois University.

I created this online edition to commemorate the 2011 anniversary of Harry Crosby’s death. The project gave me a chance to look at Crosby with fresh eyes. I’ve always cringed at Harry’s contradictions and train-wreck levels of drama.

His misanthropy, worship/objectification of women and perception of non-Europeans as savage are considerable blocks to the potential of his inspired ‘life as art/politic’ rebellion against the wealthy Boston Brahmins and his creative quest for spiritual liberation.


Eden Bloom – The Death of Bloom

Remastered versions of these songs are being released in 2021 through Eschaton Life.

Save the cover of Current 93’s ‘Ballad of the Pale Christ’, I originally wrote and played these songs with different iterations of ‘Bloom’ while traveling from Detroit to Arizona, California, Illinois and back throughout the 90s.

These versions were recorded July 4 & 5, 1997 at Goldsound Studios Chicago, Illinois

Titled “The Death of Bloom’ this session was intended to end the project though it didn’t. Great thanks to all who assisted me in bringing this chapter to a close.

These were digitized without much EQ from cassette October 10th, 2012.

Where do I go when I’m not with you?

He rented out a little room on the other side of town, a small room with one window in the north. The floors were wooden, scraped and scarred from years of use and zero maintenance. The room came furnished, but the landlord removed the bed and dresser upon his request. Remaining was a chair, table and bookcase that were quickly put to use in his first hours there. Unloading a box of old books, a few pads of paper and his pipe he had completely moved into his shelter.

Being the man that he was he knew that he had a struggle ahead of him, to protect his shelter at all costs, especially to protect it from himself. The time had long passed since he felt accustomed to being alone. Now, with this new space, he was determined to keep it to himself. A space not for friends, nor lovers, but a place of solitude.

He found himself there when he could be. When other aspects of life were not anticipating him. He slid out of their world and into his own. His time in the room was filled with nothingness, with every antithesis of what was to be. He wrote nothings, he drew nothings, and thought nothings. His papers were never to be seen and his poems were never to be read. They were not especially good, and certainly lacked most aspects that would make them readable to others, but they were solitary musings and served to give him greater purpose.

But the term solitary musings does not fit the nature of these writings entirely, for there were, due to the nature of language, traces of past writings, and music, and sights. In this manner the room of nothingness was in fact filled with ghosts, shadows, and shades. It was not long until there exploded the realization that, against every precaution, he had failed to protect his solitude.

In the frenzied time surrounding this realization he had begun to loose sleep and to show the early signs of madness. Even in their world the voices walked with him and the images were scribbled out before his eyes. He walked to the tune of ghostly music and the food he ate was tainted with the lack of the modern world. His associates in their world were beginning to notice something was not right with him.

His visits to the room were now struggles, barren attempts to think a new thought, to write the solitary line of verse, to put a tune in his mind that did not base itself upon the past. He then stopped…


Temporary Temple J-Card

J-Card design for the demon Instagon‘s cassette release of it’s June 23, 1995 manifestation. The performance happened at a house party in the Huntington Beach space we were all living in. In addition to the design I wrote the ‘liner notes’.

“Five times at the door knocks the initiate. Through the door a cross dimensional shift to all space, all time, no space, no time, neither neither. We have walked here often with little knowledge, each telephone connection, each picture gazed upon and each thought of those far away can reach across this time and that space. With knowledge comes power. When all parties have the knowledge the results can be staggering. Not a shot in the dark, but a flare in the night sky. The walls of the temple manifest within our hearts and minds and are made external through action, ritual, music, art. Ritualmusicart create the tangible space around those involved. Across time and space, between time and space the pieces of the temple connect. Our flesh the mortar, our movements those of the mason. Within these walls we step outside the walls and celebrate our divinity. Temporary we are Temple.”

From The Instagon Foundation page:

1: Wish You Were Here Temporarily>Temporary Temple
2: Wish You Were Here Temporarily (pt 2), Knock 5 Times
{Lob, Opus, Chris tm., Gregg Newsom, Tom Sunstroke}
This show was a performance in conjuction with T.O.P.Y. The show was billed as “TEMPORARY TEMPLE ’95” and was played in the mind frame of the “Temporary Temple” was simultaneously conjured this night by T.O.P.Y Magicians in the world wide Nettwerk ov TOPY and AIN. The show began at 23:00 on the 23rd ov June into the 24th, which is the anniversary of the founding of the Masonic Temple or Freemasonry….

Journal 03.12.1995 – Everything began to Bloom

Sunday Morning, a little yoga, frustrated meditation and a physical workout. A good way to start the day. Growth is occurring, but as written about in my meditations today (that I read today for the first time in months) I must learn to transfer “knowledge-experience” into this reality or it is worthless, well, not worthless, but certainly not as meaningful without finding a appropriate channel for it. So at this time I realize that I must take the work that I am trying to do inside my head and externalize it in a positive manner.

The most pressing situation is the two cats that I do love, Ashley and Ivy. These cats need a place to live due to my mistake in mot getting into a place that they could. Financial and social issues also play a major role in my error. My options are few and in fact as I look the only rectifying situation is to have them stay with Mr. Bayless until I return next Sunday. At that point and time I hope that a place for them will manifest. That was a very simple answer to something I’ve been struggling with for the past two days.

Is it possible that I am getting involved in games with myself now that K is gone? I have made a big to-do out of the situation in order to feel sorry for myself. A good self-inspection. Now to push it further and manifest my knowledge in this reality I need to change the balance of the situation, do something to fix the karma, not out of guilt, but out of love.

This statement holds true to my situation with K as well. What am I doing running around feeding my negative fire with K for? Empathy, self-empathy, respect the old man whose life has been struck by his horrible wife’s departure. No! K moving to San Fran was your suggestion and is a good and valid thing for her to do. She must grow and I must also. Step back from this and give her respect and stop feeding your negativity into the situation. Stop playing poor old man.


I want to write this before I leave on my retreat. Things will change, as they always do, but at this moment, here and now, what I say is true.

Our conversation on Sunday, March 12th, the one-year anniversary of Vrota being born was destiny, if there is such a thing that is. The words you said and the way in which you said them almost destroyed me. You put me in the position of not only loosing you but my friends and art as well. Touché you may say, but fuck that. I have tried for the past year to help you get out of the rut you found yourself in. Stating that I put you there is not a strike against me but only against yourself. I may not have appreciated your art but I never intended to stop you from doing it – it was your choice. You creativity was never sucked from you, you let it slide in the face of a challenge. I really did try to get you out of your block.

My frustration may be my main downfall in this action. My frustration let me suggest your move to San Fran. I do not regret this but my stomach churns when I think that my words led to this. I pray that you find what you search for. I pray that you survive these days of struggle, I pray that someday we will stand together with our tribe within the bliss-filled sun.

Please use caution upon your path and pause before laying blame upon your past, for it is that which has brought you to this moment. Revel in your history, revel in your struggle. Humanity is the highest form of life above both angels and devils and it is pain that separates us from them .. This struggle, this pain, is what brings us closer to heaven than any other life in any other plane.

I used to dream of walking through walls, pushing through the hymen of the sun, but know I know that it would take me further from heaven and into the realm of spirits. Life is the space between spirits and heaven. There are no short cuts. These are only pitfalls leading to the ultimate damnation, death. Strive to live! Against yourself, against me, against the world. Never loose your sight, your vision, or your life.

Last night I removed the bonds that tied us together. I did so as peacefully and heartfelt as I could Just as when we were bound. I called upon the stars to witness and bless our departure from each other, in the name of the three barred cross, under the vision of all infinite. I now turn inwards. I now refocus and I now retire the past to a comfortable book of words and pleasant memory of love and pain. I would not change a second, another page is turned and another chapter of personal myth comes to a close.

I did agree with you on the phone Sunday and to a point still do now, but your emotions and blame are misdirected. My demons are dark, you among a small group know this, but my demons make up half of who I am. They make an easy scapegoat, especially after you witness them in full manifestation as you did. I cannot allow you to blame your situation upon my evil, though it would be the simplest path to follow. I take responsibility for them but it takes two to dance under our sun and moon. Everything is true and I manipulated you just as you did me. Each interaction is in some form manipulation, each action is appropriation, and each breath gives life as it also brings death. Everything is true, definition is the downfall of mankind.

This high and mighty speak, speech, must be trying but I am moving across boundaries and know not how else to express it. Your creativity does not drive me although our experiences may. This is the voice I sing it in. Find your voice and sing your song never ending – you have a wonderful story to tell.

Please forgive my scattered style but my mind is quite fruitful and therefore very random.

Your words will not be met without thought or action. I will now forever analyze myself and attempt to check for any manipulative actions. Though as stated before, elimination would require complete solitude and I will not throw away my life to stop natural actions. I sit here smoking gold tipped cigarettes drinking black coffee mourning the loss of wine in my life, attempting to regain proof that I stopped this lifestyle through my own desire and not through the energy I stole from you. Along with this I move forward to a new project based on my own desires and leaving behind the idea of a project for the betterment of a group (my people). Maybe trying to do this for you and others was my downfall. From here on my art, no matter whom I collaborate with will be for myself.

From Vrota many new concepts are born. This movement within the womb has prepared our birth. I now enter into a new creative output titled Bloom. Both T and Cliff are collaborating on this, both are of the dangers of manipulation, both are very much my equals. I hope that we will move across this world with your blessing. I send you mine and pray that you are fruitful in your creative projects.

I do not know how to end this, in fact I am sure that our interaction will never end. I did marry you forever and now know that through our mythologies this is true. We will live in each other forever, our tattoo a testament to our histories. Someday after the fog of pain and anger lifts I hope to look into your eyes again and bask in the glory of our past. Devil’s Tower comes to mind, so many incredible moments. In time I feel we will learn to see more clearly, in time we will heal.

“I would love to tell you that everything died when you left, but in fact everything began to Bloom.” I hope this is true for you also.

I would love to tell you that everything died when you left, but in fact everything began to Bloom. And when the lightening struck desires manifest between us and our goals became one. We left the tower of our innocence and entered a world of pain and suffering. This life was born and our struggle began moving forward away from the angels, looking in the eyes of demons. You pulled me through my darkest night but I have yet to recover. And somewhere within that moment you lost your soul. No matter how I tried I could not put the pieces together. Losing you is regaining yourself and I hope that my absence is the key to your recovery. This sacrifice I make in love, this loss I bear as my cross. And forever may our demons be met with love. I would love to tell you that that everything began to bloom. I hope this is true for you. Balance. We have a long way to go. Some form of repentance for the loss of your soul.


Thee Kabal (Detroit 1991-1993)

Thee Kabal (Detroit 1991-1993)
Eden B: Drums, Mike Lemon: Noise, Doug Mathias: Noise, Kate McGlynn: Drums, Anthony Sebring: Tapes and Loops, Evan Menken: Tapes and Loops, and E. Dincha: Vocals, or should I say spoken word?

After traveling about the country for a year I returned to Detroit and attempted to settle down. I picked up every punk kids dream job and started working at Noir Leather in Royal Oak. Wearing jackets marked with psychic crosses and images of Manson I met a small group of like-minded folk and we eventually started up Thee Kabal at the same time we were coming together as a TOPY action point. We released one cassette tape that sold out quickly, played live at The Shelter’s SIN night a few times and played live as the soundtrack for one of Noir Leather’s infamous fashion shows. This fashion show and our soundtrack were turned into a TV commercial for Noir.


Sonic Youth Live, Latin Quarter, Detroit 1990

So far I’ve uploaded 4 tracks recorded from the shaking balcony of the Latin Quarter in Detroit, 10.16.1990. The building has since been demolished.

8mm Video by @eschatonlife from the ARCANE PRODUCTION ARCHIVES (1988-1991) DETROIT ANN ARBOR I’m uploading more 8mm video of Detroit shows regularly. more: http://edenbloom.art https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCJBL

This is an upload from a box of old 8mm video cassettes recorded from 1988-1991 in Detroit and Ann Arbor. All copyrights to the original artist. This is shared to document the music scene in Detroit and some of my early videography.


Journal 12.18.1989

This is my first ‘dedicated’ journal entry. 23

I have started by preparing a work area containing books that I feel will give a complete or at least well rounded type of information. I drank a small amount of alcohol and proceed to study the 7 of Wands, Valor, in both Thoth books. I shall continue meditation after this note. I finished my work by reading the introduction to “The Golden Dawn” by Chris Monnastre and the previous material in the book. In the future I need to inquire with the publishers. Earlier today I read random pieces of James Havoc’s “Raism” and became slightly disturbed. I hope to increase my occult vocabulary by reading Havoc’s work. During my work today I listened to Current 93’s “Mighty in Sorrow,” finding it a proper aid.