Propagandist of A Misunderstood Idealism

I so large, so unwanted, so dreamy in alienation

Where shall I go now, from literacy to the supreme?

In the haunt of an author’s life

Solitude spent her love in me

But where can a man like me

Bury his head? What shelter? In whose thoughts?

For how many weeks or months

The rapture of all the hoards of beauty

Cannot satisfy my cravings, ailing nights

I so hopeful, so desolate, so alive

In dragging my burden of love

So sensitive, not all the gold of all the Californias

Can suffice what it is I wanted

For my life, the mystical hunt…