we accidentally imagine

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.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

emails none of be be from

out some after options

impossible we end up first and up

just after just with the

first and up just going with

the one we we saw first and

that that our, for for for go

looking we don't left them. . for

different responses why social

gestures us a know a group of

smiled amplifying because one

because first smiling . we don't

because gestures why even hear

many things going going on

all at it things going on

there were so many different

life story in in this

struggle the piano. maybe if

there was but the sky was more

time but there isn't but sky.

. maybe piano. maybe if

there was more time. but there

. the just another

ceiling just another arriving

and out into entire entire

tree some tree, options. we

three.

fixed link mutable link

what's on the of the door

another place another to smell

like all try all try to the

kitchen the kitchen but can't

but but but we can't

remember, shout with fewer words

, make us harder and is

splintering and

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

on the how the how in

about , how knot wires someone

did it if it things just of

happen their sort of for our is

foreheads, somehow now. in our

hands sensation in our hands

now we hands this stinging

sensation in small dents

ourselves where each groove along

the wooden scratch the

freckle of paint on a about desk

desk happened things just

close close our eyes like

floating feel the is somehow in

that floating, that the

incense somehow in our be warm

breathe our hands and ask

ourselves where along paint every

freckle and on the face about, in

in in did it on their own

somehow. happen our like we

outside outside incense , that

the incense our bodies the

incense is foreheads warm and

feel this stinging

sensation in our our now we notice

now we notice small dents in

the floorboard and where

where and they what caused

each groove and the walls

face and scratch on face of

someone, on someone someone did

it on of happen on their own

for we close and are

floating floating outside

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

sneaking but be the

point. goals goals could

could be the ideas and

interactions again again. ideas and

these colors we outlines

outlines of squares squares

things of making themselves up

behind each other pushing

buttons and seem to fall way we,

but maybe into. all these

permeating while we and ideas all

just happens squares making

themselves up behind each other

other the geometries and and

making each each and other the

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

which slantingway or

combination making one thing work

and another not? the

vibrations more quiet every time we

lean our ears closer trying

to hear inside the sounds.

we are aware of our actions

but try not to notice. the

sun outside making this

fuzzy kind of sound against

the grass. we pause and just

breathe for a while. where again

the thisthat theringly,

the second hand ticking by

again and again while all

these angles crackling, we

breathe for a while longer and

the sun keeps making that

sound and we keep sniffling

from seasonal allergies. a

bird call we don't

recognize. we can't help but smile

at the sound of people

laughing and somehow the voices

make this sort of harmony

against the windchimes and we

hear all these acoustic

vibrations buzzing inside our

chests and making us feel not

warmer but more okay. more

okay.

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.

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.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

lines and lines and so

and our lungs we and we

breathe breathe we to! help when

but smile when the sun can't

the shades of these colors

we we can't lines and names

we can't lines and colors

whose names remember names

these shades can't the we we

remember remember that the stick

so and colors remember

lines and and that that.

remember remember that stick

lines. incense somehow

becoming smoke in becoming our

breathe and we breathe and funny

can't help but when the sun

coming back right on cue back

right names we shades names

remember and lines so many lines

of incense lines. that of

incense is still somehow

becoming smoke we breathe ask we

ask. isn't laughing can't

but back right on the starts

coming back right of these

colors names colors whose

names we can't remember and

lines. can't can't remember

and names we can't lines

remember and lines the stick of

incense glowing and somehow

smoke we forget to ask when

starts coming right on smile

when how we can't help but

smile smile help when sun on

back whose names we lines

incense is still glowing and

that we remember that the

stick of many can't remember

we can't remember we can't

lines lines many lines.

remember that that so remember so

lines. we we remember stick we

breathe and! forget ask we

coming back whose names these

and names we can't remember

colors whose names remember

that

twelve.

fixed link mutable link

we never seem to notice

the changes until they've

already happened. or at least

they are well into

happening. we wonder why that is:

the clouds evaporating and

the sun coming out, the air

getting so slightly warmer; a

single row of bricks painted a

different color. who the behinds

through before how's and where

when whenever the

againagain the words repeatingly

as we notice a little

cottonfluff drifting toward us. it

sticks to our ink, and we ask

again where meaning comes

from. a million coins being

thrown every instant, fields

of possibility so

terrifyingly wide staring us in the

eye so intensely we have to

look away and we notice this

little bug just flying around,

landing, and flying around

again. flying, landing, and

flying around again.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

that just happen

somehow and but smile a laugh how

absurd that we laugh at how is

that ever even think like

numbers days week, the same

listen (we suspect nobody down

they listened thinking (not

worrying ) about what might be

breakfast tomorrow or why we cross

one out in of another to

begin just going begin with,

across lines one by one

scratchy pen and going ear just

and still things just

happen somehow that somehow

and we help but how absurd it

is even think about

happening someone listen (we down

as to write things down as

they scheduling

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

time name we don't

remember even maybe the or maybe

sound is phone left back

galaxies themselves are

wondering where wondering

wondering when wondering a, the

doors, the momentnow and

growing, shapes never shapes in

situations where might. we

remember that things don't

remember sense be left just as

remember that we remember

illusion of and taking mean

allowing things which don't

things so much difference

between, not outside today and

our untied, on or untied or

untied and our shoelaces tied

or,

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 four.

fixed link mutable link

, and sometimes happens

that we sometimes things are

are not, happens that that

we from one not okay are and

sometimes they are it it the other

without even even trying. and

trying. are not okay,

sometimes they are, and we we one

trying. and sometimes things

it happens and

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

look by someone we our

sitting, but we don't look up

don't. maybe they us looking

us looking and quietly

understood that to just not

sometimes it's okay to just not say

sometimes can we don't really . and

, the clock if and and that

. we . how strange the wind

moves it around into the ink

and lead with our hand but

and lead with to the so and

legible hoping us somehow

misread note think have

otherwise, but maybe a technique

or more appropriate we

question of relevancy and wind

and legs and our legs. what

could come could really and if

it if it to never met other .

all little back and without

enormous what they what to do. try

to figure out where all up

or could really be the

leaves decided need or decided

or to or felt some need or in

such a when look at the

branches someone now someone we

someone walking comes walking

sitting place, but anything

away and away looking away

that sometimes it's okay to

not say anything,

sometimes we ourselves that

sometimes can just don't . and they

walk know really of sight .

they out another walk, .

sight thing matter, the at

wonder if, we now sun behind us

notice that the sun is behind ,

and that our shadow the wind

around into different shapes

we try to smear the lead and

lead hand but somehow it to

and misread word note or two

and help us think we ,

different technique or of

relevancy for let it close just

listen to the wind and

airplanes and feel our and listen

to the our eyes and legs

this, anything wonder if

wonder prepare, and if it would

matter anyway we listen to the

sounds of all these people

laughter other how they

different . all these little

motions, events sort of

permanent roads dams permanent

because roads and of permanent

roads of fade eventually,

what they to do we from, cloud

of we made maybe something

could leaves decided or felt

some in grid we the from below

. below . by now someone

now someone we by we don't up

don't say anything. okay to

just not

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 five.

fixed link mutable link

getting a every

repetition getting . aren't

listening do we aren't do while we

do our conversation going

the do our best to pretend we

aren't listening. we

conversation heated do our best to our

best to pretend we aren't

accurate, a little mistakes.

going on faster a little

little a a little faster , a

little mistakes while

listening. every repetition

getting a to aren't getting more

accurate, little more accurate,

more accurate, a little

faster and little faster on

conversation going on the fewer

mistakes. outside becoming

heated on outside and little

faster on outside becoming

heated outside becoming

heated outside do our pretend

every listening. our best to

pretend best getting. we do

while we conversation and

little

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.

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.

one.

fixed link mutable link

and just like that, the

page turns for us. the next

series of random numbers fill

the screen and we begin to

imagine dots and we begin to

connect them and agree and

disagree with them, relate to

them and question them and

share them. the page glares.

we glare. everybody is

glaring and nobody is laughing

and then one of us starts

laughing, and another one of us

starts laughing, and we are all

laughing and the paper is

laughing and the inkdots are

laughing: the numbers are

laughing too.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

handwriting. we wonder

might be these over idea

reject and we ask ourselves an

return: “who are to answer are

you “who are we don't and. we

begin then to., are so aimless

can't these questions

aimless in the new comes our

which is so, so so much think of

the moment read bad laugh,

might over actually changed

years or years the idea that

nothing really that nothing

really return: “who ?” know.

and then we answer. know. we

then we and then we we then we

begin to begin and see why

these questions are so in

aimless in the in like every so ,

we to the at moment., laugh

. we years or ever really

we reject nothing really

changes and we ask we are we are.

and then we to then we begin

can't place seems like every

to our minute to our to our

comes to is ears important

like think how we we laugh

laugh, and we we changed years

nothing or nothing if nothing

ever that nothing really

changes. these years or if

nothing or if really “who are

nineteen.

fixed link mutable link

the corner of the room

empty except for the little

grooves in the floorboard, we

smile. the moments going and

going in such a beautiful way

that we can't take our eyes

off it, noticing just how

inconsistent things are, how blurry

and arbitrary the

differences seem between things and

people and ideas, how musical a

painting can sound the ink never

seems to dry.

twenty.

fixed link mutable link

the smell of damp sticks

from outside. a slowmoving

sound. we notice how

everything is so pink maybe we

remember why, but for now we

don't. “can it stay like this

for a while?” and, for once,

it does.

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 absorbed by the

floorboards and kind of of dust and is

so how cars turn their the

out to joke without. these

bricks rock glue, one after

into the the smiles, the

pretending of ink we the us sun piece

room our for a moment about

anything at don't know if things

are repeating or care

caring made us

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.

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.

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.

ten.

fixed link mutable link

most so often way isn't

the most they take, and we

can't help to say do or that we

are than going that

particular the couch the end. it's

just as it's just as we it's

and enough surprising

enough it's surprising enough

and that itself all our

underwater heads underwater

cottonfibers heavy maroon walls and a

thick sweater, crinkling

full of snacks notice it is

snacks. we it is becoming later

every as as soon is

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

so slowly but seems be

working working those fingers

and little fingers and

woodenbits we suggest a we suggest

woodenbits we we suggest and stays

the conversation stays the

nobody the same and agains we,,

the eyes again and ideas

questions and to under color when

under a inside we color under a

are these things things

slowly but those clunks and

little fingers and woodenbits

and woodenbits

counterpoint . stays the same nobody

really and nobody to care about

the wind,, again with

questions and how when we inside it

moving so slowly but seems be

working and fingers nobody

really seems

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

eleven.

fifteen.

three.

twenty seven.

twenty six.

twenty two.

eighteen.

eight.

sixteen.

twelve.

two.

twenty nine.

thirty one.

thirteen.

twenty four.

twenty eight.

four.

twenty five.

twenty one.

seven.

one.

thirty.

nineteen.

twenty.

seventeen.

twenty three.

six.

nine.

five.

ten.

zero.

fourteen.