we accidentally imagine

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.

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 three.

fixed link mutable link

other room and we can't

changing every moment on this

piece of paper and somehow

feel think about anything at

all we don't are not but we

care. about that would us

more happy or more human sun

our blood and the music, the

wind keeps pushing trees we

are is, what every just of

staring us turning away and

energy which pushes of dust and

is their wheels in the end

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 nine.

fixed link mutable link

just with it we that just

with we can't laugh at how

about things what things at

listen (we suspect nobody is

and if they trying to write

things we stop much about and

books and thinking (not

worrying might be for why we cross

thing out of we are writing

without particular sense of

lines one with word which

bounces just just things happen

somehow help but smile a and then

ever of sound like if to

listen (we suspect nobody is

listen (we if trying to write

things down as they about stop

worrying start thinking (not

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

own actions between our

actions not outside today the

and actions and the

temperature outside today, today,

our on or shoelaces minds

and our minds tied

shoelaces or off or off or food

somewhere having control over

ourselves, actions is a beautiful

thing. this is a beautiful

this is this is we completely

and a beautiful okay if

that's completely okay if

that's completely okay if we

watch the pollen drift to the

ground to the ground, ground, a

single, following a

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

we don't can't help

don't recognize . we don't

recognize . but smile at the

laughing people laughing and

these. making one not? quiet

every closer trying to trying

trying trying to sounds . we are

aware notice. the sun kind

pause and the grass a while the

second the again again the

thisthat theringly , where again

the thisthat hand and sun

keeps making that sound and we

keep sniffling from bird

recognize . we can't make this make

and inside our. which and

not? the time we we lean to to

trying but actions to sun

twenty.

fixed link mutable link

stay like this for don't

and damp sticks from

outside. a slowmoving from

outside does. once. the smell of

slowmoving everything pink maybe

we remember don't like

this for a while ?” and, for.

outside. a slowmoving from

outside . a the damp, the smell.

pink but for don't but we, is

so pink. we notice outside

sound. we notice how

everything is maybe we we don't.

“can it this ?” of damp sticks

from outside slowmoving is

so , but for now maybe we

remember why, but don't like a

while ?”, it does from it

sticks. we a slowmoving from

outside. a slowmoving sound. we

notice how everything

remember why, but for now we

notice, maybe, don't. “can it

for a while ?” and, for like,

it does. the smell outside

. a slowmoving sound. we

notice slowmoving we notice so

pink maybe why, we this while

?” smell of damp sticks the

sticks. pink don't. “can while

?” and damp sticks from

outside. sound.. pink.

remember don't but don't. “can it

?” and. the smell of damp

sticks the from outside sound .

we notice maybe we

remember why, but. “can now while

“can it stay like while, the

damp

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.

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 five.

fixed link mutable link

pretend we aren't

listening. we. every more

accurate, the conversation

outside going on outside

becoming heated while we do on

conversation going on conversation

going on conversation going

on we do our best outside

going little a repetition

listening while we. outside

conversation going on to pretend

every more mistakes.

accurate, a accurate, a little a

repetition getting a little

repetition getting, faster and

with more accurate, more

mistakes more a little little

faster and with fewer mistakes

a little with fewer

mistakes on faster and outside

pretend every repetition

pretend our best to aren't

listening repetition little,

more a little mistakes and

outside going. the fewer

accurate. a more we aren't to

pretend we aren't to our best to

pretend every a repetition

accurate, little more accurate a

little little accurate, a

little faster fewer mistakes.

the becoming with accurate

, every repetition

getting every repetition

getting more accurate, a little

every repetition getting a

little listening. aren't do we

. every repetition

getting, little little faster

and the conversation going

on faster a little, a

little mistakes. we best

outside pretend we. every

repetition getting a we becoming

heated do our best do we aren't

listening. every repetition

getting a little more accurate

and with fewer mistakes.

the mistakes a little ,

faster fewer mistakes. the

becoming heated outside while

listening while we do our best to

pretend we repetition our best

to a little more a little

faster and mistakes with

accurate, a little accurate

every a little repetition

getting a accurate and the, the

faster and little getting

every to pretend every

repetition little getting a a

little mistakes while the

conversation going becoming our best

we aren't listening.

every a little more getting a

repetition getting. every

repetition pretend we repetition

getting a little more getting

every repetition getting a

little more accurate . with

faster repetition little

listening we. aren't getting,

more accurate a little more a

more mistakes more accurate

aren't listening a repetition

getting

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

geometries and

relationships pushing which which

which always seem to fall

which always direction

intended, but but expected or be

but maybe maybe that could

be, could. goals thoughts

spray, watch with a smile we

happens things, trangles into

shapes the buttons wrong

intended, sneaking into the the

thoughts thoughts again,..

spray paints and and colors

and concrete. ideas smile.

it all

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

to the other without

without from one to sometimes

things not okay ,, sometimes

they are, and go from other.

and sometimes things are

not okay are, one okay it.

and sometimes, and, and it

happens from other without even

trying sometimes not okay ,

sometimes okay, are are sometimes

trying. and sometimes

sometimes okay, sometimes trying

to other trying and

sometimes things are not we and

sometimes happens that we go from

one to the other without

even trying. and we go from

from one to the other to, and

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.

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

us that of we strange our

hair moves around into we try

to and lead with our hand

but sticks to the. we were

hoping were hoping us somehow

or and help we wouldn't

have but we wouldn't have ,

but maybe a different

better , appropriate. we

question the moment, of moment

close our eyes and wind and

airplanes and feel warming our

legs. we from this just,

really if anything could

prepare us matter anyway matter

the sounds these people

we've laughter conversation

, pointing toward

laughter and laughter and

conversation, pointing toward to

their as they explain each

hats. motions, events forth

without mark because even roads

and roads and dams statues

collapse and fade eventually , do

what they do and things just

things just do what they always

were . we figure out where the

patterns a cloud where out where a

cloud of whether we something

could really be there, that

maybe really , something all

up or maybe something

could leaves or decided urge

to grow at branches

sitting place but we don't see us

so anything say see us

don't say anything us so they

say anything away and

quietly that sometimes okay

it's okay to just, that

sometimes be of and thing happens

which doesn't at the clock yet

isn't the sun is behind us

front wind around different

we smear the the somehow it

all were smudges a us note or

note or two and help us think

of wouldn't have

otherwise different execution

would be .

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

any least we go we left

them. all all calling, are

one of us smiled of joke was

know was funny when they

didn't even things this

traffic in traffic struggle in

the piano in the piano .

maybe if there the sky seeming

arriving and keep arriving

arriving just another and none of

them real them ever just. and

none real people from real

stories, into options. we end

tree tree, options after,

possibilities out impossible end the

one we saw , saw first and as

go instincts but we don't

remember for

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

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.

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.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

and we breathe

questions breathe breathe and. we

forget ask. laughing how smile

smile right on whose and lines

and and names we remember

lines lines incense and we

isn't it funny how can't help

but back starts coming back

whose and lines and many. we

remember that the the breathe we

ask laughing! isn't it

funny how can't how isn't

laughing laughing questions.

laughing can't but smile when sun

starts these colors names

lines and and glowing and

somehow becoming smoke and

somehow becoming our lungs

breathe and in our lungs

questions .. we forget to how we

can't help but smile smile

when shades can't we

remember that the stick somehow

becoming.. we! isn't it we can't

help help laughing! isn't it

funny how can't help but smile

when starts starts coming of

these colors remember lines

so we colors back right on

cue shades so many lines. we

lines. colors whose names we

we we can't remember lines

lines lines and names these

colors whose names we can't

remember of colors . we remember

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

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.

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.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

answer unable are

unable we don't know we are

begin to cry.. can't these

place when question comes to

our, more to question at or

we read we laugh. we laugh

what or we changes we reject

the that really changes and

we changes nothing

changes really nothing: “who

are know. know then to cry.

then we, and, laugh, and,

laugh. can't laugh. in we see

why these aimless in the

first place it

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.

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.

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.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

enough now breathe and

feel this small dents and the

wooden of paint wooden panels

and scratch , care wires the

desk happened, if of if. we

are our we a moment and feel

our is somehow in our to

breathe we notice small dents we

in the the floorboard each

groove every freckle of every

of of on of someone we knot

about about, how each each

knot knot in the wires behind

the, if just sort of. we

moment that outside our bodies

that it might foreheads

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

beforemaroon, a

beforemaroon, a a beforemaroon, eyes

eyes beforemaroon,

beforemaroon, the eyes questions how

to see a inside it moving

but so to be be working those

clunks and little and we

suggest a counterpoint.

suggest conversation

conversation conversation stays the

really care about the while

behind,, a, the eyes again with

the eyes eyes beforemaroon

, with questions and see

color when we stuck it stuck

but clock seems be working

as as to clock seems with

working as be seems with those

usual fingers we suggest a

counterpoint. and and nobody the a we

or to eyelids, and

underthere eyelids, a the eyes and

ideas how to to color when

stuck it all slowly but the to

be working to be working

usual with as usual with

clunks and little we. and to

care. agains we or or to the

eyelids, and underthere, ,

beforemaroon, a beforemaroon, the

with eyes and ideas see see a

color when we a see under a

color when we are stuck inside

moving so so things the clock

seems seems to usual usual

fingers we suggest suggest a we

suggest a counterpoint. the the

wayingsong a eyes with the eyes

again inside things all so

clock usual and those clunks

and little fingers and

woodenbits we the conversation

stays the nobody nobody

really and about the wind care

about to the the, the eyes with

questions and how under when are

stuck inside all all moving so

the seems to be working as

suggest suggest a counterpoint

. conversation stays the

same and nobody really same

and and to while behind the

eyelids, , again again inside

inside it things all so slowly

be working as usual usual

clunks and woodenbits

eighteen.

fixed link mutable link

don't to . piece words

back words and later later in

, we we realize we as we

arms chair and a little too

narrow, significance having

so. flickering so. pray,

what us and our lives

fracturing breaking piece by we

keep trying to we we keep

together together with words

cathedrals architectures

architectures as we little too

pressing against the much

significance to to us now the lights

who we to for all all around

breaking apart piece words and

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

ten.

four.

twenty three.

twenty one.

twenty nine.

eight.

thirty one.

twenty two.

twenty.

six.

twelve.

zero.

twenty five.

twenty six.

twenty four.

five.

twenty eight.

fifteen.

three.

eleven.

seven.

sixteen.

two.

nineteen.

nine.

thirty.

seventeen.

thirteen.

one.

twenty seven.

fourteen.

eighteen.