I'm in a class. Outside a large clearing. The mountains open into a crystal: violet, purple, red display of lights. Many poets are gathered around. I have my mother's old camera. I run to meet the light, a large field, glass. I snap the photo. But the photo can't depict what I'm seeing. Then the mountain is a house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. I look again, and it's all one big building, and a playground. What happened to the crystal light? Where is it? The mountain, where is it? Juliana Spahr says, "there -- that building, that's where it came from." I don't understand.