we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seed 4692920

it is 2026. we wonder what to say next, and the wind is still blowing.

four.

fixed link mutable link
it's hard to speak
sometimes. we are frustrated with
ourselves for our
inconsistencies once at peace and
allowing things to be just the way
they are and want to be,
always taking action and never
taking action,
leftandrighting with the leftandright
once again wishing things
were a different way or that
the coin had landed on the
other face; we can't figure
out who we are, and we aren't
quite sure if that question
leads anywhere hard to find
the energy to say anything,
too many responses waiting
behind each option which never
seem to go anywhere
positive, anywhere that doesn't
hurt anybody or dissipate
into the grass as if nothing
had happened in the first
place and we begin to wonder if
anything actually did or does
happen or if we had somehow just
thought it all up out of some kind
of desperation and
confusion aimed at nothing in
particular, cycles going back and
forth but never quite the same
way, always surprising
somehow and adding to the
confusion and lack of any sense of
place, the feeling that we are
nowhere and the feeling that we
are getting nowhere.

three.

fixed link mutable link
how did we get here? the
questions which keep making their
way inside our mouths as if
we never could learn from
the last time we couldn't
answer and instead only become
more unhappy and began to
throw things at the walls with
some inexpressible anger
screaming and shouting with a red
face and bulging veins,
fists again and again against
the door not even caring
what's on the other side, too
caught up with the idea of the
door being there in the first
place another why and another
if causing the lights to
flicker and the stove to begin to
smell like something is
burning so we all try to remember
what we had done in the
kitchen last but we can't
remember, and even the attempts to
remember make us shout with fewer
words, make us scream with our
fingers and pound harder and
harder on the door while the
wood is splintering here and
there and the doorframe
appears to budge this time or
that time or this time again
and again and again

six.

fixed link mutable link
silence and quiet now. a
small voice humming and
laughing in the other room. a
crystal or some melting snow.
behinds toward while again
around where's or why's while
leftandright shrinking silently. a
wooden creak. a scratch. all
centers things happening all
around, things just happening
and just being the way they
are. and we realize that this
is a beautiful thing. that
this is a beautiful thing.

eighteen.

fixed link mutable link
systems all around us
and our lives fracturing
breaking apart piece by piece as
we keep trying to glue
things back together with
words and theories and poems
and cathedrals
architectures in the mind and and later
in concrete, we begin to
feel jittery as we realize we
haven't stood up in hours, this
chair and its arms a little too
narrow, pressing against the
sides of our skulls, plurals
and singulars not having so
much significance to us now
when the lights are
flickering so subtly. we pray but
don't know who we are praying
to who we are praying for,
what we want, what we should
want. fading. fading.

seventeen.

fixed link mutable link
marbles in a glass bowl,
not going anywhere in
particular seeming to wonder where
the birds get their
melodies, their strange rhythms
tinkling or rubbing cardboard.
the dark bottle looking
right back, eyes glimmering
so loudly with the
sunlight or fluorescent
flickerings or uncharged
batteries. the lithium looking for
water. how's this different?
asking between colorshades
and subject matter like it
were important or something
or something or something
or anothersong
thismomentingly or an old box of cereal,
casting shadows longer than
expected somehow while the light
reflects in its own color onto the
walls and the nearby desk
surface, papers scattered from
months before piled over each
other, some important some not
so much, some with colors
and blindly drawn
paintings and some printed out
from an old black and white
laser jet printer, whatever
that means, whatever those
meaning.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link
the same suspect is ) and
if they they . we stop
worrying so much books thinking
or about what might out we
are writing begin with just
across by one with a and going
straight on next word which going
a scratchy pen and going
word and going straight the
word our ear just it suspect
just happen we suspect smile
a little at how absurd it
little then laugh at how about
like numbers and of the week
what were sound if they
listened worrying about
listened . we stop ) be breakfast
tomorrow cross one thing out in
place writing intention to
writing without any, just a one
one across and going a
scratchy pen and going straight
one with a scratchy going to
the still with. suspect
just happen somehow and we
can't help but just and we
can't happen a then think
about things like numbers and
days of the week, what things
like if someone were to
listen (we suspect and as they
to as they listened . we
stop worrying listened.
worrying so about books ) why one
or why in sense of begin
sense of intention lines one
by on the next word which
our ear with just it still it
and we but smile a somehow
can't help but and and but
smile a little then is even

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link
sometimes from trying.
. and are, sometimes
sometimes , and are we go from we one
to even trying.. and
sometimes things are,, and
sometimes , and it the other are
happens that we go from trying.
things are trying. and
sometimes are it happens go from
one to from from we without
from even, they and
sometimes they , from to the other
not are, and happens that
that we the other without and
things, from to

zero.

fixed link mutable link
and all at once things
are so quiet, a tiny hiss
from the walls, distant
clanging of a ventilation fan. we
breathe with the sunlight,
passing clouds causing these
little pulses in the sunglow
and somehow we feel it in our
toes even though we can't
quite tell why the wind
chooses the pitches it sings
against the window, why one
harmony should point to
another, why every story has some
sort of climax where
elements and trajectories
culminate into some bigger thing
as if we had been heading
there all along as if there
were some kind of purpose
behind the penscratches or
where this leaf decides to
fall in this rotting pile we
notice a pain in our lower back
from bad posture and some
strange sense of pressure from
the bottom of our right foot
now the ventilation fan
slowing down into a periodic
banging; we notice a coin lying on
the ground but we can't make
out which side it landed on.
do we care? is it good to
care? would it matter if we
knew? we are staring at the
coin and the coin is staring
back.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link
every face of of someone
we each happened, of if
sort somehow of happen their
own of happen on their own
somehow. and bodies our
foreheads enough outside be be now
this stinging breathe and
hands we notice small dents
now we notice our small
dents where scrape along and
walls of paint every face and
scratch of someone a knot in the
wires how knot in the wires
happened these of things just. we
close feel like incense that
it might be the windows now
. we breathe and hands now
we hands in our now dents
the floorboard and what
freckle lot lot about we the face
about each

one.

fixed link mutable link
and just like that, the
page turns for us. the next
series of random numbers fill
the screen and we begin to
imagine dots and we begin to
connect them and agree and
disagree with them, relate to
them and question them and
share them. the page glares.
we glare. everybody is
glaring and nobody is laughing
and then one of us starts
laughing, and another one of us
starts laughing, and we are all
laughing and the paper is
laughing and the inkdots are
laughing: the numbers are
laughing too.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link
have make sense , that
things as that consistency is
another sort taking a step make
sense our between our own
actions and actions and, not
much up in by and fungi we the
control over ourselves, this
that's completely and that's
beautiful a is a is a beautiful
thing and that's be, if we
watch the pollen green speck
its speck time together
with the crowd with the with
the crowd and completely
with a goal somewhere with
the air's, standing around
standing path supposedly doing
some job playing some role
society, vaguely society we
call is saying or why and we
ourselves don't we and saying it or
and ourselves quite
understand quite are it it saying
wind saying sun's belly
rising belly still breath
falling every and falling
cabinets shaped the are so many,
explain our roll up our sleeves
that seems everyday seems
everyday in the sky the sky in sky,
in the of on our desks.
combinations of soullessness down
again, breaking down again
down reminder that we
reminder pale blue are grain of
every library where every
book where every where in a a
different language of things we
don't recognize or have names
we had thought grip shapes
colors on and; we and colors we
are sure a shelves down is
few shelves down old or
haven't in haven't seen in a
though years even though came
back is phone left playing
the themselves are asking
where will finally momentnow
changing and growing,

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link
behind eyelids, a
beforemaroon eyes again a are stuck
these to usual those clunks
usual with suggest a the
conversation stays and agains the
wayingsong a

seven.

fixed link mutable link
tangling wires into
these bizarre shapes, rugs
with strange colors and
melodies waitingly, taking deep
breaths before the speech where
we finally speak our
minds: "won't everybody
please, please stop this
cruelty? can't we see how
unnecessary it is?" some glass
window creaking under winds,
some oil spilled in a parking
lot. how again the why's and
who's before and after or some
some behind throughingly, a
manual for writers of research
papers about electrical
engineering and game theory,
complex analysis and early
marxist painting; the
walls of this place have
shoulders that are
sagging, somewhere in these
pages an actual answer to a
question that matters. a new pair
of jeans, a holiday
decoration left up for months, a
lightbulb which doesn't fit even
though we could have sworn the
size was right at the store.
color combinations making us
feel sick and wonder why we
care about the dissonance,
why we should prefer one to
the other. we conclude that
we're all just bits of air
moving with the waves of some
song we can't hear: now
banging on the wooddrums, the
thoughts and the doubts, hopes or
imaginations throwing fists at the
organ keyboard, some body of
loud waters, some
electrical structure groaning in
rains particles trapped in
the breezings, the sine
waves, the eyeballs thrown
left and right or up and down
or is that a sign of
happiness, of
peacefulness? who's to tell what's
harmony and what's dissonance?
who's to tell the words of the
song when each moment's just
a few bits of data? hard to
see the picture from a
pixel, hard to find the poem
through a word a letter an inkdot
the arounds and behinds
lost somewhere in the mix,
the breath being exhaled
before we even noticed it was
inside our bodies, each note
rising just a little higher or
just a little more like dirty
wallpaper: we ask each other where
it happened. where the
music got faster. where the
blue became green, where the
light was switched on and the
newer waves began to
interfere with things and distort
the shapes, canceling out
or multiplying or
performing more complicated
operations until the noise is noise
and the signal is noise and
the noise is still noise yet
somehow wider, more sideways
and spinningly and
uppingly and backwardly, more
harsh and out of sync, now neon
colorlines and batteries, strange
gaps in the spiral not
patterns but something about
them which makes us feel the
walls are moving further away
and the room is becoming
smaller, that one moment is
another and the second hand is
somehow different this time
around. we cannot help but go to
sleep again, this time with a
strange smile and already
looking forward to coffee. this
time with socks and a thicker
blanket. this time with the
windows open: and in comes the
cooler air.

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link
getting every a a fewer
faster and with. the
conversation mistakes and with
faster and with fewer mistakes
. the fewer mistakes
conversation outside becoming
heated while to pretend we best
getting a little more accurate
and with fewer faster, more
accurate little repetition
getting a accurate little
faster and with fewer mistakes
. little faster a
accurate, a little a repetition
getting a with fewer mistakes a
little faster. the
conversation our pretend we to
pretend best going on faster
repetition faster and with fewer
the fewer mistakes and with
a little more getting we
aren't getting a aren't
pretend we aren't listening.
every repetition accurate, a
little faster and little more
we aren't listening.
every listening. every
repetition getting a little more
accurate. we aren't heated the
fewer mistakes. the
conversation mistakes. with faster
on heated while the
conversation mistakes. fewer
mistakes conversation going.
with a every repetition
getting we. every a little more.
we best we aren't pretend
we aren't listening .
every repetition faster
fewer mistakes . a repetition
getting a repetition getting a
little more accurate, a fewer
little, more a little aren't
listening. every more getting. a
accurate little repetition
getting a repetition getting a
little more accurate every
more mistakes. the do our
best to aren't accurate
every aren't listening
pretend every

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link
paper perfectly
legible. we were hoping
perfectly legible might make us
word have otherwise
execution maybe would be better we
the a moment close the sun
warming our airplanes and from
this just if anything really
anything prepare for it if listen
if matter anyway to the met
toward pointing their
laughter and conversation ,
pointing toward their
destination as they explain to they
learned about so different
types little motions , events

two.

fixed link mutable link
, the we less stare at the
details, because the longer we
the details they even
matter. because less we are
sure sure matter . even.
because we stare stare stare
they we stare at at the
details the less we are even they
they even matter the longer
we stare at the the details
the details the details
less we are the the we longer
we the details, the
details they even matter less we
are stare at the details the
longer they even matter even
matter . because we sure even
even matter. even matter. we
are the longer we stare
longer the less sure details ,,
we are sure we are less. we
we less we they even even
matter because we stare we
stare we stare they we even
even the less we the less we
are we we are they even
matter less we the the less we
are stare at are they, even
matter. because the longer
they even details, the are
even even matter the longer
we at at the sure they,
details, we are even matter.
because we even stare at we the
details, because less less we
are the longer the longer we

eight.

fixed link mutable link
we accidentally
imagine ourselves as having for
a head this strangely
shaped box or a bird feeder with
a triangular roof or
something similar and we are
sitting in the front passenger
seat of an old car and someone
we care a lot about asks,
who are you? and we
think for a minute, and then
another. we aren't able to answer
with anything except a held
hand, and we somehow find
ourselves caring more about them
just because they asked.
they can't answer either,
and the grip gets tighter
and they aren't making eye
contact but that's okay because
we aren't looking anyway
and we are both these
strange wooden boxes attached
to bodies, heads without
eyes which still say so much,
eyes without laughinglines
which always find new things
to smile about an itch
behind our ears, the way this
piece of paper falls on the
ground, the sound of an overhead
lamp switching on laughing
about nothing in particular
and everything in
particular, wanting to want
everything and wanting to want
nothing, to feel everything and
to feel nothing, or at
least something the grip
getting tighter and we remember
how okay it is, how
beautiful it is and how funny it is
that poetry and music might
be the same thing after
all, that hiding is okay
sometimes and being naked is okay
too, that sometimes things
lead to other things, and
sometimes they don't, and
sometimes things just happen and
they keep just happening and
they don't stop. they don't
stop and it seems like they
never will, so it starts
making sense to just accept
this and close our eyes and
smile a little but somehow
this feels impossible. we
get frustrated and start to
do things we don't want to
do, blaming other people
for things nobody had
control over in the first place
and jumping to conclusions
and making assumptions
about other people and their
intentions and what they want or
what they are afraid of. we
forget that they are us, that
their grip is getting tighter
and that nothing is okay for
them either. we remember
that their boxy head is
crying and we have been trying
not to notice. we remember
that we are all the same
person born into different
bodies, and that this is a
beautiful thing. this is a
beautiful thing. this is a
beautiful thing.

ten.

fixed link mutable link
we ask ourselves some
question we can't hear, muffled
because our heads are
underwater, this cold sensation
pressing on our foreheads while
we feel our socks becoming
heavy, cottonfibers grabbing
skin and dragging behind our
feet, cold passing between
our toes. maroon painted
walls and a thick sweater,
crinkling plastic bag full of
snacks. we notice it is becoming
later every moment, and that
as soon as we count one
number there is another in
front of that, always room for
another one or zero or eighty
seven or pencilcase
dirtyshoe, these power outlets
rusting over even though we
can't see where the water
could have come from fading in
the carpet telling which
way people walk most
without asking why they walk it
so often when it seems
there are so, so many other
ways to go and that this way
isn't even the easiest or most
efficient or beautiful or
surprising: they are taking the path
because it is the path they take,
and we can't help but
laughalittle at how beautiful that is
not to say that one is better
than another or that anyone
is wrong for going the way
they do or that we think we are
better than going that
particular way to the couch, but
that we know in the end we are
going to go that way too and
that's just fine. it's just as
good an option as any so we
don't see a reason why not it's
beautiful enough and it's
surprising enough and that itself
may be the most beautiful
and surprising thing of all
at the moment.

eleven.

fixed link mutable link
we keep asking
questions like “will this make me
happy?” when instead it might be
more interesting to ask what
it would sound like if the
leaves on every tree were poems
written on little sheets of
paper and everybody in the
world began to read them out
loud all at the same time and
then the wind began to blow
and the poems went flying in
the air all around and
everybody just watched it happen
in complete silence we
can't help but smile a little,
and then a lot. and someone
hugs the stranger to their
left and we all begin to
laugh. we ask ourselves
another question we can't hear
because of all the wind and
poems, and that's just fine we
realize we didn't want to know
the answers anyway when
there are so many confusing
and beautiful things all
around us anyway. we just keep
laughing and grabbing poems out
of the air, sometimes
deciding to read them and
othertimes using them as napkins.
the wind, the wind is
laughing too.

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link
which slantingway or
combination making one thing work
and another not? the
vibrations more quiet every time we
lean our ears closer trying
to hear inside the sounds.
we are aware of our actions
but try not to notice. the
sun outside making this
fuzzy kind of sound against
the grass. we pause and just
breathe for a while. where again
the thisthat theringly,
the second hand ticking by
again and again while all
these angles crackling, we
breathe for a while longer and
the sun keeps making that
sound and we keep sniffling
from seasonal allergies. a
bird call we don't
recognize. we can't help but smile
at the sound of people
laughing and somehow the voices
make this sort of harmony
against the windchimes and we
hear all these acoustic
vibrations buzzing inside our
chests and making us feel not
warmer but more okay. more
okay.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link
so things going on all at
car in in this traffic jam, a
different, behind piano , a
different maybe if the sky seeming
but there. but sky ceiling .
none of arriving and keep
arriving and keep arriving and
like time like just seeming
was more there isn't the sky
ceiling. emails just keep
arriving of people, all these
situations out into branching out
into entire stories,
fanning out into situations
situations all these fanning
impossible up the one we saw just
that as any looking for our
instincts we don't least we go for
go as any, for any for our
instincts but we don't remember
all these for responses,
are one of us smiled first ?
these social gestures
amplifying across people first? a
group of people people people
why they thought why they
thought the joke even because
there were going on all at once
, a different life jam,
different struggle every every
struggle the piano. maybe there
sky was was but isn't maybe
there isn't but isn't. the
isn't seeming like like like
like and ceiling. none of all
fanning incomprehensible tree
, , impossible weigh. we
first now at at go for our our
but we don't where we left
circumstances calling different
circumstances calling for different
responses different ways of
dealing don't know of across
thought the joke didn't even
half there once, a a
different life story in on all at
once story in every, a
different life traffic note in if
there the the sky .

nineteen.

fixed link mutable link
the corner of the room
empty except for the little
grooves in the floorboard, we
smile. the moments going and
going in such a beautiful way
that we can't take our eyes
off it, noticing just how
inconsistent things are, how blurry
and arbitrary the
differences seem between things and
people and ideas, how musical a
painting can sound the ink never
seems to dry.

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link
fall in the wrong
intended intended, but sneaking
into paints and concrete,
all permeating while it all
just happens shapes sort the
the pushing which which
always seem to wrong intended
the could again paints and
concrete, spray paints and
concrete we watch. of squares
making the geometries each
other the geometries and
relationships in the wrong intended
could, sneaking. spray
paints ideas and paints and and
concrete, all these and concrete
, all with a smile.
outlines outlines of sort of
making and making themselves
up into up behind each
other and fall direction fall
in expected or intended
the that

twelve.

fixed link mutable link
we never seem to notice
the changes until they've
already happened. or at least
they are well into
happening. we wonder why that is:
the clouds evaporating and
the sun coming out, the air
getting so slightly warmer; a
single row of bricks painted a
different color. who the behinds
through before how's and where
when whenever the
againagain the words repeatingly
as we notice a little
cottonfluff drifting toward us. it
sticks to our ink, and we ask
again where meaning comes
from. a million coins being
thrown every instant, fields
of possibility so
terrifyingly wide staring us in the
eye so intensely we have to
look away and we notice this
little bug just flying around,
landing, and flying around
again. flying, landing, and
flying around again.

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link
we will all turn to be
sentence. one another with and
facts falling into the the and
violins and our pretending not
of themselves while hear
help temperature every
moment all around us sun is
paper how whole room can and we
don't know themselves don't
don't caring about that would
have made us more happy or
feel like the is through our
skin and the, the little we to
everything around us for is air just
around. these tones staring us
the eyes without away being
absorbed the floorboards
transformed into energy which
pushes is so how cars turn
wonder if in the end it will to
joke story one with some rock
, facts the the ticking
and. circles themselves
while we hear room every
landing we somehow feel don't
know if themselves don't.
about that happy or feel more
our blood the, trees around
a we we are to for, is sort
away, and transformed into
energy which pushes wonder,
and cars turn out,. one
another after into the same the
smiles the hugs, paints keeps
ticking pretending not to
notice. circles ink going we
hear room and we temperature
changing, landing on this piece
room is can somehow feel we
don't we things repeating
themselves or care and caring about
that would or and through
skin the music just keeps an
instant what person, how the air
around. by into energy and
makes wonder why resonant,
quickly if in the turn out joke
without a a sentence to one
another with some rock glue, one
after another into the same
bucket, the fists and violins
and not to. circles of ink
going we how the sun is

five.

fixed link mutable link
quietingly, the
softmurmurs not trying to say
anything in particular or
convince anyone of anything,
prefering to let things just exist
the way they are and stay the
same when they need to stay
the same and change when
they need to change, or not
even need to stay the same or
need to change but maybe
instead want to stay the same or
want to change, or rather: it
just happens. it just
happens, and it keeps just
happening. the softmurmers not
even speaking about what's
going on or what's not going on
but instead just
mentioning about whatever is on
their mind at that moment,
letting it out and letting it go,
the sound waves not
disappearing but echoing off a
thousand surfaces and every
blade of grass, split and
muffled and distorted and
echoed until they sound like
dead trees, the sun pushing
the waves around a little
through the screen door, gnats
in the air just sort of
moving around.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link
coming colors we can't
remember we shades of these whose
names we can't whose and lines
lines . we we remember that so
many we we remember that the
stick of incense is still
glowing in our becoming we we
laughing we forget laughing
can't.. and we breathe we
breathe and breathe. we forget
to ask we forget to ask
questions.. laughing! it funny
isn't it funny!

twenty one.

fixed link mutable link
we wonder what would
make us happy, what would
make this headache go away
which keeps distracting us
from everything going on the
scratching pens and observations,
a quote out of context we
leave the incense burning
when we go to sleep even
though we know it's a fire
hazard and it puts our lives in
danger and the lives of all the
other people living above and
below us, and all of the people
we know and the people who
care about what happens to us
even though we never asked
them to. we wonder why it
should matter that something
happens to anyone, we wonder why
we care. and everything is
so quiet.

twenty.

fixed link mutable link
, but for now we don't.
“can it stay once ?” does. the
smell of from it does smell of
slowmoving sound. we notice how
everything is why everything for
now like this we, but for
stay like. “can it stay once ,
it sticks. a slowmoving
from does of does. damp . pink
why for now. a while ?” and of
damp sticks from outside . a
slowmoving sound. we notice so pink
why for now we we remember
don't it stay don't. for a and
for, for while like now “can
it stay like. “can now.
“can why maybe we why is
remember don't remember why,
don't. why is maybe we
remember don't ?” for .
slowmoving notice how but don't we
remember don't for it stay like
this for does. the smell
sticks a smell , for once, it
does smell of damp sticks it
does from outside. a
slowmoving notice how. a smell of
does. the smell, it sticks,.
outside. a sticks from outside.
. we notice how
everything . sound so, but for
remember why everything is why,
don't for a, for does. the,
outside. a sticks, smell from
everything for. “can it we don't but
we it stay like this ?” this
for a stay like this for it
stay for stay a while

nine.

fixed link mutable link
we are breathing. and we
are still breathing. one
thought and another passing by
in the street while we ask
ourselves if this is going
anywhere if we should instead be
focusing on something else like
the way the smoke is
drifting away from the incense
stick, or the sound our eyelids
make when we blink. is there a
place for rushing anymore?
the softmurmurs again,
reminding us about our breath: and
a little blue bird lands
on the windowsill. it is
singing.

thirteen.

fixed link mutable link
we wait for a few minutes
and wonder if it would be
okay for us to ask now: "is
this beautiful?" we wonder
if nobody noticed and we
watch the air just sort of move
around through the leaves. we
take another breath with the
sunlight and feel warmer.
throughs and arounds
behindingly the now nowing while
again the time continues and
stops and continues again.
circles of ink we close our eyes.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link
to begin with are able
and we laugh.,. we wonder
what might years or really
changed over these years. these
years ever if or years or if
nothing ever we ask ourselves an
unexpected question in return we.
you ?” and we know. and begin
. cry laugh. can't when it
seems new our so of to begin
question to the moment or bad
handwriting, able to are to read bad
handwriting laugh, and,
,