Strangeness on the Train

I've been having a three hour commute by train lately and I've been reading mostly Clark Ashton Smith, Harlan Ellison, Tobias Smollett, and Edgar Allan Poe. I hadn't read much of Clark Ashton Smith before, now I can say I've read two stories set in his fictional French province of Averoigne, "The Colossus of Ylourgne" and "The Disinterment of Venus" (both first published in Weird Tales in 1934).

"The Colossus of Ylourgne" is quite a long story about a demented dwarf who makes a gigantic patchwork corpse and somehow transplants his face and soul to it, after which he goes on a rampage. It's all set in the middle ages. Anyone looking to shake up the kaiju genre might want to look at this. I guess it's pretty similar to Attack on Titan, actually.

"The Disinterment of Venus", in which a group of monks accidentally unearth a beautiful statue of the Roman goddess, is pretty obviously an allegory of sexual repression turning to violence. I found myself thinking of Mother Joan of the Angels and Ken Russell's Devils, those movies inspired by the 17th incident of horny nuns possessed by demons. Smith's story is about men who go crazy, though. It must've been one beautiful statue.

X Sonnet 1933

An error forced the fish to swim in fear.
A toothy bud arose above the bed.
The water changed and bubbled up to beer.
Now nourished rough, the mighty marlin led.
But double country claims have brushed his scales.
The current raked the fellow first to Spain.
A racket smacked him back 'mongst sushi whales.
WIth vinegar they feel but little pain.
In empty sea, the time was dowsed to death.
A rusty watch has missed the minute hordes.
A bubbling brine assumes the place of breath.
Their dame arose, bedecked in weedy cords.
And now the fish will dance and sort of sing.
They form a strange and hostile outer ring.