And I saw a field of Buddhas and there you were, running fast up a hill, laughing. And I saw you laughing and my heart burst, like a small block of granite beneath a sculptor’s chisel, a million shards of myself flying through the air. And my heart burst and I saw us running down a hill, towards another field, into the exploding afternoon. And I saw us running and I saw that we were laughing, trying to hold hands as we ran, falling over each other in the grass. And we were falling over each other like we were on the moon, in exquisite slow motion and full colour.

And then I felt the long ache of our addiction and the tingling of you in my veins and I was crying. And the tingling of you in my veins made me run as fast as I could towards the moon. And I ran as fast as I could and you were there, breathing in the lunar dew. And you were there, holding out your arms, laughing at the faraway earth with long and bursting laughs. And the earth was as faraway as old sadnesses, a photo we might have looked at once but no longer find necessary. And the photos got old but we never did, laughing and running through green snow.

And the field of Buddhas began to run towards us, slowly at first but with gathering speed. And they were slow at first but they soon sped up, falling over us as we ran together through that mint green field of tomorrow. And we fell all over each other in that green field of sunshine and explosions, laughing at ourselves and poking fun at Buddha. And we poked fun at Buddha because we were invincible, standing there in the future valley. And we were invincible because we were both there, holding onto each other as the moon fell out of the electric time machine sky.


  1. Hi david,

    a quick question: i’m writing a paper looking at editing journals / anthologies, & wondering if you might answer a few quesions for me? 10 ultra short answer things i could email to you?

    i have a few editor participants so far but noone working with online publications.

    what would buddha do?

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