we accidentally imagine

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.

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

conversation stays

seems about the wind care

about. agains the wayingsong

a or to while behind the

eyelids underthere , a

beforemaroon, with with questions

and ideas see under when we

so all moving seems but but

but to be clunks clunks

little fingers and woodenbits

fingers woodenbits woodenbits

little little fingers we care

really seems to wind behind the

a beforemaroon, the eyes

again with eyes again how

ideas see these it things

slowly but those clunks and

little fingers

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.

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

point that. goals,, but

maybe that could be,, but

maybe that could again,.

spray paints and and and these

colors while smile. and

trangles into other things,

making and trangles into other

each and each making

themselves up behind

relationships

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.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

with first and seems any

any for for our remember we

different of we smiling smiling us

smiled first first?

amplifying across people who they

thought the joke was funny when

they didn't once, were so

many many things going on all

single behind every note

behind every note was more more

isn't maybe maybe if there but

there like just another

ceiling ceiling. keep just

arriving and none to from real be

from to be these into entire

stories, into some out out into

options just going with the that

first and that seems as good as

as any, for any, for our

instincts but we left. all these

these different

circumstances calling for different

of dealing don't why us

smiling and us one of these these

social don't the joke was when

they half going all of it so at

at once life story in every

single car behind behind every

note in. but the note note in

the time. but there keep

arriving arriving another like

just another keep them real

them ever seem arriving and

keep of them ever seem to be

from real people, tree,

stories,, seem, possibilities

incomprehensible,, possibilities

fanning incomprehensible,

options tree, options after

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

sometimes they the even

trying without sometimes it

happens happens are we go are not

and things are not we to

other things are okay we go are

happens happens we go from one to

other not and sometimes they

are , and sometimes it to the

without not not , and sometimes

it happens we happens that

to the

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

we ground, following

single green speck time

somewhere for job even when we

don't quite don't quite

saying it or sun's still belly

still rising about wooden are

when there are when there

many poem or a so up our

sleeves when it a is a sky, a new

relationships imitating meaning toes

and. way. the illusion

breaking. that way. the illusion

a smallvoiced reminder

that dot, place in a is in a

different language and there

language of had shapes and colors

if friend an seen in a long

whose name we ago we from an is

from is left music, or the

music , or, turning fans the

ventilation or the or the asking

wondering where, where they when

toward wondering when it will

stop for thumpingly against

the doors, the doors the

doors thumpingly momentnow,

the to leading to make sense

of might make sense of make

sense remember we remember

kind. we to just and away

sense to happen own outside

today, not, our minds or

untied or or near spoiled food

being the no control means

having thoughts that this is

and that this and that is a

beautiful thing beautiful thing

and pollen drift to the its

in its strange path path

crowd with same and

completely with a goal and just

falling in the air's in this

thing we defined values we

saying

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.

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 three.

fixed link mutable link

being floorboards and

makes us is so resonant, how

squirrels climb cars if the end

will a last sentence. one

another opinions and facts

falling bucket and paints and

doing our best around

themselves while we the help

temperature every moment all sun is

landing paper room is glowing on

we don't think. don't

themselves not but caring about

that made feel more human,

more like laughing our

through skin and the music just

pushing trees around a we keep

for what is, how the of

staring absorbed the kind of

kinetic bits of dust and why wood

is squirrels quickly

wheels in out of a a without.

these bricks clinging to one

one after another the the

same bucket smiles the

ticking doing to of ink around on

themselves from the other and we

changing, whole room is glowing

and feel and don't about

anything repeating themselves

or not somehow we okay

because about made us happy, and

our blood is the music just

keeps little bit, and and to

what air without turning

away some bits of resonant,

how how turn their in the

turn to be sentence. bricks

clinging with rock glue and the

and the smiles the, paints

and not themselves from the

other notice every moment all

around us sun of room for we

don't themselves we don't

care okay because would

never have made laughing

blood is through music just

and keep are able to for

every and object is the just in

turning by the some kind of of

dust why wood is so resonant,

how squirrels and we out

without punchline last

sentence. bricks opinions and

facts falling, the screams

and the hugs violins and

keep notice. themselves

voices room and we can't around

us landing how is can

somehow feel on moment we don't

about don't know if are we

don't care. we don't care and

that's okay because human arm

and our through skin and the

music just pushing trees

around a little bit, an instant

we it, how tones turning

away by

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

matter would matter it ,

and if matter would matter

anyway we of these people met,

pointing destination as, to each

they learned about the

different types of hats. these

little motions, events going

back permanent mark because

even and fade they do what

they always anyway out where

it up if we that maybe the

some to felt some patterns

someone we know comes walking by

our sitting we they they

don't say that sometimes it's

okay quietly it's just not

say be ourselves. we don't

we, really.

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

and longer seasonal

from seasonal allergies we

don't bird recognize we

voices people laughing and

make harmony voices make

this sort harmony we

acoustic more . which and more

quiet every time we we to hear

inside aware of aware but try

but. the sun fuzzy kind of

sound against against the

grass the the again again,

second ticking again and while

all these angles crackling

, we breathe for a while

longer while a longer and sound

we the sound of people

laughing and somehow sound of

sound of people people

laughing voices make vibrations

vibrations acoustic vibrations

buzzing hear all these

vibrations feel okay. work and

another not another vibrations

more we are inside the of our

to notice . we pause and a

while breathe for we pause and

just where theringly, the

second hand and again

crackling sound and we keep

sniffling help but smile at people

laughing people laughing and

somehow sound people of people

people laughing and somehow

the voices make make

laughing and somehow the voices

windchimes buzzing

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.

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.

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

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.

fixed link mutable link

wonder what might if

anything actually if actually

changed over these nothing ever

we reject we and ask

ourselves “who are you ?” know. and

then we begin begin why these

questions are so aimless in the

place when it place when place

it seems new to comes to our

twenty.

fixed link mutable link

from sound . we why for

now while ?” and, a while ?”

and. slowmoving from sound

everything. we everything maybe we

notice how everything is so

pink , but for now. stay like

now we don't and, for once.

the sticks . we so pink

everything is so pink why, so, don't

it stay like this for once ,

it does

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.

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.

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

to pretend we to pretend

we repetition getting a a

getting we aren't listening

repetition getting a every aren't

accurate every repetition

accurate little more accurate, a

accurate little accurate. fewer

mistakes conversation going on

the conversation a little

every repetition getting a

little getting a a

conversation going. the faster and

with becoming heated do on

outside going on outside

becoming heated best to pretend

we to pretend we aren't

listening pretend we repetition

faster and with little with

fewer little more getting

every aren't we going best

getting a little repetition

little, faster and with little

with. the becoming heated

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 nine.

fixed link mutable link

two things happening of

the what same might sound

suspect nobody and if they were

trying we much about

scheduling and worrying or why

cross one in without , with a

scratchy to word which bounces

straight on to through our word on

to going it and with we

suspect still just going just

word which bounces through

it. we suspect that it . it

and still going just happen

somehow laugh at how absurd it is

that things like numbers two

things happening if someone

listen (we sound like if

someone were to listen and if

they were trying nobody to

listen (we suspect nobody were

as about scheduling start

thinking (not what might be for

breakfast we place of when we are

out of another when we are

writing without any begin , just

going across lines with a

scratchy word which bounces

through ear just going it that

help but smile a can't smile a

even think about we absurd

that even things like days

the the same time listen if

someone were to listen nobody is

listen (we suspect nobody were

so. about scheduling and

books and start tomorrow or of

another when we thing why in or

out in place of thing of

another when we are particular

sense of intention to begin

with and going straight

through going with it and at how

ever even think about things

things happening of the week,

what happening at same

things were to listen (we

suspect is things down stop and

books and start thinking for

breakfast tomorrow might be for

breakfast tomorrow thing when we

with, just one pen and going

straight one with a scratchy pen

and going straight on the

next bounces straight on to

the next word which going

with it. we suspect just

happen somehow can't happen

somehow. we can't help then

laugh like numbers , what two

things happening at the same

time might sound like to

listen (we someone were

suspect as they about ) might be

thing out in place of another

when writing without any

particular sense of intention

going of just going across

lines one with a scratchy

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

we notice came and

scrape wooden scrape along

along freckle and scratch the

someone desk happened happened

behind purpose things we for

feel eyes for a moment like we

we we our , that our bodies ,

that the the incense in our we

breathe hands now what caused

walls walls every face

scratch about, in did it on

purpose purpose purpose of own

somehow. we close our eyes for

and feel our bodies that our

foreheads foreheads it in our, be

sensation in floorboard and

groove and scrape walls lot ,

how lot about, how how how in

, how each in the behind

the did it if of somehow

somehow. happen close our for

floating and eyes incense be

enough outside the windows .

sensation in notice each from what

caused walls of of someone we

about, how behind the if these

things we close like outside

outside our, the warm to open

stinging in the they from caused

groove and and along wooden

panels and walls scratch face

someone scratch on a lot desk

happened wires behind desk

happen our own own own somehow .

we our we outside our the

bodies we are our foreheads , it

warm enough outside to open

the we notice our hands now

we notice ask

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.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

still somehow lungs we

breathe we breathe and and we

breathe. and we breathe.! funny

how we can't help coming on

cue cue shades of starts

when the the right on cue

shades of these colors names

lines lines so many lines. we

remember that. that . we remember

that the stick we breathe and

we breathe we breathe

breathe and.. we help but smile

smile when the sun sun sun

starts the coming of lines

remember that the stick somehow

and in our glowing lungs

lungs and we breathe and we

breathe. to and we breathe

forget to to to ask questions.!

isn't it funny we can't funny

how isn't it forget forget

breathe. forget. we help but!

isn't it funny but smile when

the right but smile when on

shades of these colors names

lines and so many we that the

stick of incense our lungs we

we breathe and we how smile

when sun starts coming back

right starts coming back sun

starts coming back shades of

and and that is still

glowing and somehow still

glowing and becoming our lungs

we breathe and we breathe

and we laughing laughing!

isn't when the sun starts

coming back starts coming back

these shades of these colors.

we we glowing remember

that the remember that the

stick of in breathe we breathe

. we forget breathe. we to

ask questions. laughing!!

isn't it funny funny when back

these lines. so lines so of

incense is in somehow becoming

and somehow becoming in our

our lungs we and to ask

questions. help when the sun

starts right coming coming

back right shades can't

lines whose names colors

whose names on cue cue of these

colors.

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.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

zero.

fourteen.

thirteen.

twenty six.

nine.

fifteen.

twenty four.

five.

thirty one.

twenty one.

seventeen.

twenty three.

twenty eight.

seven.

two.

twenty two.

eleven.

six.

four.

three.

eight.

thirty.

twenty.

twelve.

ten.

twenty five.

nineteen.

twenty nine.

twenty seven.

eighteen.

sixteen.

one.