I dreamed I entered the House of Desire and it sheltered a fecund, sun-filled atrium full of pomegranate, olive and fig trees and pear trees in his Name. A sublime dalliance with a love supreme takes place in this Song of Songs which is a garden, for he is the fairest and darkest, the most profound and the sweetest, the most accessible and the most unreachable, the sound and taste most constantly on my lips and the most ineffable and impalpable.

We lie down in the green pasture and slip off the wedding garments, silver bracelets, red veils and all, and give the gifts of stone, feather, bone, pen and gold. The fountain in the center of the atrium plays its celestial spray in micromusics culminating never culminating but circular in blissrounds.