And while he sprouts harmonies on gloomy corners,
in the antechambers of subway stations,
the lobbies of office buildings
singing of the ecstasy of orgasms
that overpower him in the night
the world revolves around him in great enveloping waves
flooding him with the impressions that he must resist
else his visions must be washed away
under the hoof beats of hominids.
He speaks firmly in the awakening dawn,
perpetually renewing his invocations,
living in a world of his unique conception.
Do they hear him? He must move relentlessly
in streets measureless to man
on avenues of the mind wide and hazy,
on boulevards of capricious obscurity.
He is compelled to enunciate the vision
vouchsafed to him in dreams of velvet abandon
and trusts to the ears of adherents
materializing in the awakening crossroads
in the nerve centers of the tremulous urbus.