we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seed 263773

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

fourteen.

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as little little
fingers we care about about the
wind. the wayingsong
wayingsong a to to to while behind
behind the a the beforemaroon,
the a underthere eyelids, a
, a questions and how a are
are stuck inside things all
moving things all moving
slowly but those as little
clunks and little clunks
clunks usual usual with
suggest conversation same
seems care about the wind
agains agains a agains the
wayingsong agains the wayingsong
to while, and underthere,
beforemaroon eyes again questions
and ideas color all moving
so all all moving

twenty eight.

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notice we in front of it
around into different the
moves around different we
around we the ink lead with our
hand but somehow lead with
all sticks perfectly paper
so well and were hoping
that the us we , otherwise,
but maybe a different
better, more. we question the
idea of, and let wind and and
feel the sun legs. we wonder
if anything

nineteen.

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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.

three.

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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

seven.

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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 two.

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

two.

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

twenty six.

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dominoes
relationships pushing buttons and
dominoes which which wrong
direction. not maybe the thoughts
again. ideas and thoughts
spray ideas and interactions
again. ideas the thoughts
again. ideas and
interactions interactions and it it
with a just a a a squares of
making themselves geometries
and relationships pushing
buttons and to fall which always
seem buttons geometries and
relationships pushing always in which
always pushing buttons and
dominoes dominoes which wrong
going expected going the
wrong direction. way way we
expected or intended that. goals
ideas concrete colors we
outlines trangles themselves
shapes sort of making making
themselves up sort of making
themselves trangles trangles
shapes sort behind geometries
and to to fall in the wrong
direction. fall we. in. but maybe
the thoughts again. ideas
and and concrete
interactions. spray ideas
permeating while we watch with a
while just happens outlines
all just happens , shapes
the dominoes which always
not always seem to fall in
the wrong direction. not
going the way be goals could
could be the point again.. all
these colors and ideas
permeating while we we trangles
into other other things of
geometries and relationships
dominoes which always seem to and
dominoes which always pushing
the up behind the
geometries and other and and
dominoes and relationships
pushing buttons and and
dominoes dominoes to fall
direction. not always going going
going the could be. the
sneaking into the thoughts again
. ideas ideas ideas ideas
and thoughts again again
interactions. spray paints and these
colors and ideas,.. spray
paints and concrete, all these
colors and we watch with
outlines of squares and sort sort
of behind each other
dominoes which always seem to
fall in expected or going
going the way we expected but
maybe or intended that the
thoughts again be, sneaking into
the point. the the thoughts
concrete concrete, all these
colors and ideas permeating
all just happens we colors
while we colors. we watch with
a while we happens
outlines outlines of other
things up shapes the
geometries and relationships
pushing buttons and dominoes.
we be the

twelve.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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

sixteen.

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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.

one.

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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.

thirteen.

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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 one.

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and understand what we
ourselves saying we are saying
sun's outside, the sun's
belly breath as thinks about
they when they
possibilities, so many possibilities
, poem to when it seems
everyday that everyday that
color in the sky desks
combinations of voice relationships
imitating meaning while our ears
and toes make up for their
emptiness or soullessness if that
it we are a pale are pale
blue dot, a grain a grain of, a
grain dot out of place in a in
book is in pictures or have
and not sure are; we are not
sure if the shuffling feet
librarian or librarian seen in
don't we name years ago we had
laughed the sun came the
ventilation turning the fans we
remember are asking questions of
questions of questions of are
galaxies the galaxies
themselves where

twenty nine.

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at think about things
numbers and days of the week if
time might sound like
happening at the same time might
sound if is ) things down if
they were trying to write
things down as worrying so much
about what we place another
when we thing out we writing
without particular intention
to across by one with a the
next bounces going it we
suspect with it. we that things
happen somehow and we little
absurd then laugh a laugh at how
like and the week time sound
like if were trying to stop
worrying scheduling and
worrying ) be for (not ) about we
cross

ten.

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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.

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

eight.

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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.

thirty.

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in or second a second or
second question comes ears to
is so, so can't think of to
bad handwriting. we. we
wonder what might be and we we we
laugh, what wonder what be
next be might, if next, if or
if nothing. we unexpected
: we begin. and then we
begin to laugh begin to laugh,
and and, and laugh and.
can't we see seems like
question

zero.

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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.

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of someone care a knot in
the desk someone the desk
happened the wires behind the
desk desk happened, if
someone on purpose happen on . we
moment and feel a moment and
like we are floating outside
our in our foreheads, be the
. we and our and groove and
scrape freckle and every
someone we care a lot did these
just sort eyes we eyes

fifteen.

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people out entire
stories, possibilities
stories these these situations
branching out into fanning out
into impossible going we saw
first good as any, for now at we
don't remember where these
different responses, different
different all these different
circumstances calling calling for
different,, smiling. we are
smiling and don't why because
one first? these social
gestures amplifying people why
they across one of social
gestures group know why they the
joke was when all at once, at
once life story in every
single car jam piano there was
was isn't. the sky another
ceiling. emails keep keep just
just another . keep and none
of arriving another
ceiling . emails ceiling.
emails just and none of them
from real situations,
possibilities branching out into some
options end up the we weigh. we
end first first and that as
good as any, looking for our
instincts but these
circumstances different and don't why
why because because smiled
smiled first? these social
don't know a know they across
don't joke funny when half of
it things going on on all
different car in this traffic jam
more piano. maybe if isn't
isn't. the sky like just
another ceiling be and to be from
out into entire

four.

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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.

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

six.

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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.

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link
, a story these some rock
glue and facts falling
screams and the smiles violins
the we keep our best of ink
themselves while voices from and
notice how this and somehow it
and moment don't know we
don't don't care never have
made us more happy human sun
is through our skin going,
the wind keeps pushing
trees around, and an for it
person the just sort away,
absorbed and transformed which
dust and makes quickly and
how turn out a story these
bricks rock the and bucket, the
smiles, fists and keep doing
our best of ink going we
can't around us , the is
landing on this how the whole
room can on our we don't if not
we okay because made us
more happy arm and our blood
is glowing through keeps
trees around a little smiling
we around us is object is
doing how the air just sort
staring and transformed
kinetic energy makes us so
squirrels climb cars their wheels
. we wonder if in out to be
part a joke sentence. bricks
another with some rock another
the opinions and, smiles
keeps ticking doing our best
not to around on room but
changing every

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.

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.

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 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.
,