1795 c/o Ka Bradley

Buddham saranam gacchami.
Dhammam saranam gacchami.
Sangham saranam gacchami.

The tree is just a tree. When the rains come, they don’t come with intent; they cannot even be said to come because that suggests a goal of place. I eat the things that flower here, I swallow blossoms. I have a fear of my own heartbeat. It lives here, both ‘it’ the fear and ‘it’ the heartbeat. This is the first site of the colony.

Dutiyampi Buddham saranam gacchami.
Dutiyampi Dhammam saranam gacchami.
Dutiyampi sangham saranam gacchami.

The tree is just a tree. I simply require some time with your body and a variety of implements. The skies are closed. The forests are closed. The light and the ground are flat against one another with the impermeability of pre-narration. You cannot offer this place as an inheritance even if you name every last pebble. Take it easy. The rain falls on water because it can; it won’t be blamed if it provokes memories of things suspended in abeyance.

Tatiyampi Buddham saranam gacchami.
Tatiyampi Dhammam saranam gacchami.
Tatiyampi sangham saranam gacchami.

I grow your body like a garden, I manufacture control and test the idea of it every time you open your mouth against the air. If you’re not going to be my lover, you’re going to be my cadaver. Dearest, dearest, darling test subject. The tree is just a tree. When they took this land it continued uninterrupted. It is not thematic. I have violated all five precepts in the forty-seven minutes that you’ve been here. The lotus is a holy flower. The tree is just a tree.