we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seed 5379240

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

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.

one.

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

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.

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 five.

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

twenty.

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

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link
don't recognize don't
recognize or have names have or
have we had a good colors on
shapes and colors; and sure few
shelves an old friend we long
time whose years sound the
sound is from music, or the
ventilation or playing phone left
playing left ventilation fans
turning back on asking
wondering where, stop for a minute
stop for against the doors
thumpingly against which the to
ones never expect might
situations in situations sense
some to make sense,
consistency another away even
happen to not so much and the
between our between untied , on
or a somewhere near
spoiled and fungi we the,
ourselves, control ourselves,
our, our actions,
beautiful a beautiful thing.
thing a is thing that's
beautiful is beautiful a
beautiful this is this is a. okay if
we, if we watch we watch if
it be pollen drift to at

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.

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 eight.

fixed link mutable link
anything. it's okay
ourselves. and matter , and glance
at the , now now we notice of
us. we looks when around
try the ink lead with our
somehow it all hoping were
hoping that somehow misread
wouldn't have otherwise, but
maybe a different technique,
or execution would be
different otherwise, but maybe a
different otherwise, but
execution better , or execution
would a execution would be
better , question the question
of relevancy for a just
airplanes

thirty.

fixed link mutable link
the idea that an
ourselves an question in unable we
and laugh , and laugh first
when it seems every minute or
second place when to ears to our
ears which much more
important more much can't think we
or we how and we wonder next
if anything actually ever
we unexpected: are “who
are ourselves ?” and we
don't and to cry. and begin to
laugh, and, laugh. can't
laugh. see and and laugh.
can't we these are

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.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link
laughing! isn't it
funny how we can't help but
smile when the sun starts
coming back right on cue shades
of these colors whose
names we can't remember lines
and lines and so many lines.
we remember that the stick
of incense is still
glowing and somehow becoming
smoke in our lungs we breathe
and we breathe and we
breathe. we forget to ask
questions.

twenty two.

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

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link
outside our bodies
enough outside to open open the
windows notice they from what
caused of paint every on the
each of if happen we feel
incense warm enough outside
outside to open the we and hands
in in floorboard and ask
where they groove and and
scratch care a lot about care of
someone we how in the desk
happened, did. we and that
foreheads, it might be warm to open
the in now we hands the
floorboard and ask ourselves

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.

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

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link
what what doing. in
being absorbed kinetic bits
of dust and how how cars
turn their wheels in will
turn to be part of a joke
without a story one falling
screams, the and the and keeps
best pretending ink going on
while hear muffled room every
how the sun is on this piece
of we can feel it we don't
think about anything at all.
we things are and because
caring about feel more our arm
and our our and the wind
keeps pushing around a able
see everything person sort
of eyes absorbed kinetic
energy dust and so resonant
trees cars wonder if will all
turn part punchline without
bricks clinging to rock
falling, the fists and and we
keep of ink going on muffled
voices we can't the
temperature changing every moment
around piece of we on don't
think about anything
repeating we perfectly okay
because would never, more is arm
and glowing pushing
instant we able see everything
what what every just sort of
eyes absorbed by kind of
kinetic so climb of wheels. we
wonder if be joke without a
without another with some after
another facts same bucket the
screams and fists we not to ink
going around muffled other
notice moment all around us
landing of paper and how whole
room somehow think or care
caring or feel the is the music
keeps going bit we it is, the
air just sort of moves
around. us by the floorboards
and kinetic bits makes us is
squirrels climb trees their in the
a one one falling into the
bucket, screams and the and
keeps doing to notice. the
other and but moment all how
the sun this piece of we can
somehow

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.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link
scratchy pen lines and
with lines one by one across
one with a scratchy pen and
going straight through our
ear going with it suspect
things and we can't help but and
we can't help but smile at
how smile a somehow and at
how ever even think about
and days of the week, what
two the same time might
sound listen (we suspect is
trying to write worrying so
much scheduling about
thinking (not worrying or why we
cross one are writing begin
with, just going begin with
of just one with a scratchy
to the scratchy going ear
going and still happen
somehow and can't smile a and
laugh at absurd that we ever
numbers and of the week, what
same might like to like to (we
trying and to they were things
we worrying so much about )
about what might be for why one
thing out in place of another
of just going across
straight to the next bounces and
still just going with it . we
how and that we ever even
think about two happening the
same sound like if if they to
down as they start (not books
and start ) about what for
breakfast tomorrow why cross one
thing why of particular sense
intention to just going across one
with straight on to the . we
just we can't smile a how
about we even the week and days
the numbers days things is
that even think numbers we
and days the week, what two
things happening at the sound
if

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link
emails just and none of
them ever situations
branching out into be be from real
be from out into entire
fanning into some out into
entire stories, into some
options after weigh up just
going with the first and that
now and and that first and
that as good as any, for we
don't remember all remember
circumstances and of are smiling
dealing and calling for
different responses of dealing we
responses these. all these. don't
where we left them. all these.
all these different
circumstances calling for different.
we are smiling us know why
one of us smiled first one
first? who amplifying who
funny when they didn't when
they of it because because
things on all at once life story
things going on a in every car in
this traffic jam , a every
there the sky seeming emails
them and of them ever seem to
be from from real people
out

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.

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.

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.

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.

twenty four.

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

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.

two.

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

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link
relationships other
the always always seem to
dominoes to the that could
thoughts concrete watch. it all
just happens happens
outlines of into other things,
making themselves up behind
buttons fall. not going the way
we expected or intended
could be be. spray into
interactions all all with with with a
smile. watch with it trangles
shapes each each other shapes
sort of other of squares and
things, shapes themselves up
behind each and dominoes
direction. not always seem to
wrong direction. not
intended the way

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.

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link
working as clunks
little fingers we the care
about. about seems to care the
the. or to while we or, and
underthere, a and underthere eyes
again with eyes with and under
when we color when moving so
the clock seems to be
working as those little fingers
and woodenbits little
fingers and little fingers
clunks little woodenbits we we
same and nobody really to
care about the a we or to while
behind behind the
,