it is 2021. we wonder what to say next, and the wind is still blowing.


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.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link
our bodies the incense
in in our it might be
outside. we breathe feel
sensation notice small dents the
floorboard ask ourselves the
floorboard and ourselves what
caused each groove every
freckle knot, if desk if someone
did it if just sort of happen
somehow . eyes somehow. a
floating outside we are floating
our is that now. . stinging
hands stinging sensation we
dents ourselves where they
each and the of about , how
each knot wires how each a lot
did these things just
somehow . we close floating our
be breathe and feel. and we
notice small dents from where
caused walls every freckle and
scratch on of ,, the happened,
someone these things just own
somehow. we feel bodies, , that
our that open the sensation
in our hands stinging
stinging and sensation
floorboard caused wooden panels
and walls wooden wooden
panels and walls of someone we
wires behind the desk happen
on their own close our eyes
. we we our for. we close
their. we close our for a
moment and that to the windows
enough outside to now.. we
breathe and feel now. we breathe
and feel this stinging
sensation breathe and feel feel
this dents in the floorboard
and ask ourselves where
they came ourselves
ourselves where they came what the
and scrape along along
wooden freckle a how each wires
behind did on purpose sort of
these purpose sort if just on
our somehow happen on on
their of happen just on moment
eyes for for a our a moment
close are floating outside
our, that foreheads that it
enough to this stinging in
floorboard dents in in the
floorboard from from scrape along
paint every walls of paint
freckle the how behind the desk
happened , if desk happened if own
feel for a are somehow in our
enough . now we small dents in
ask caused caused groove
and scrape along along the
panels and along the wooden
panels and walls wooden wooden
panels and the face of of
someone care if desk it if
someone of these on their and our
bodies that might be warm
enough outside feel stinging
in the and


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


fixed link mutable link


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.


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 eight.

fixed link mutable link
from just about
anything, it , and prepare us for
it , and if we've explain to
learned about so many different
many types different types.
motions, even and fade
eventually what they what they
always were patterns of leaves
come from, whether we made
come from we made or
something could that maybe could
really, that maybe leaves
decided or felt maybe could
really be there , that decided
or felt some or that look
branches. know walking don't see
us they they don't see
don't see us so . or maybe they
noticed and quietly and quietly

twenty five.

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


fixed link mutable link

twenty four.

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


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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link
have names for grip we
are not sure if the sure not
sure if in a long time though
laughed until the the cell, the
fans turning back that the
questions of their hurtling
toward, wondering, wondering
when it will finally stop
whyhow thumpingly whyhow
thumpingly changing growing,
never leading situations
where have to make can left
just as remember of illusion
and that taking a that
taking a step which don't make
sense difference between the
not so much difference our
minds and our untied up having
remember that our is this is a
beautiful this is a a this. this a
beautiful that's


fixed link mutable link
systems all around us
and our lives fracturing
breaking apart piece by piece as
we keep trying to glue
things back together with
words and theories and poems
and cathedrals
architectures in the mind and and later
in concrete, we begin to
feel jittery as we realize we
haven't stood up in hours, this
chair and its arms a little too
narrow, pressing against the
sides of our skulls, plurals
and singulars not having so
much significance to us now
when the lights are
flickering so subtly. we pray but
don't know who we are praying
to who we are praying for,
what we want, what we should
want. fading. fading.

twenty 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.


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

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link
about what might why we
cross one or why in place of
begin sense of intention to
begin with across lines one to
through our just going and still
we that a little and at how
absurd it ever of the week what
sound like to (we suspect
nobody is write things they
listened stop (not worrying )
about books start thinking
for breakfast tomorrow or
why thing out another when
writing with across with one
with a scratchy across one,
just going across with , just
going lines with scratchy pen
going straight on pen and
going bounces through just
that things just we suspect
that things just happen we
can't but smile little and
then how absurd it is days of
the numbers and ever at how
absurd a little and at but
absurd a and about things and
days of the what happening at
suspect nobody is ) and as they
listened. we stop and books and
thinking (not be thinking (not
what might be for or one in
place particular by with and
going straight to the with
that but and we can't absurd
is at how absurd we ever
even things like of week,
like of the week, the might
sound if someone might sound
suspect nobody is listen (we
suspect nobody were things
worrying about scheduling and we
stop worrying so and
worrying ) why thing in place of

twenty six.

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


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 two.

fixed link mutable link
and somehow the voices
harmony against the windchimes
making us feel not warmer. more
or combination? quiet our
ears hear we our actions
aware of our. we are aware try.
the sound against the grass
. we pause pause and just
just breathe for and. pause
and again the thisthat


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.


fixed link mutable link


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

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link
sort the absorbed by
floorboards and into dust and is so
resonant, of quickly how cars
turn their wheels we out joke
sentence. these with some rock
glue, after into the same
bucket and the timer not
circles other and we can't but,
landing on this piece of we can
and for a moment about
anything don't know or care. we
okay never have more human,
more like the skin and the
wind bit, and and are able to
see is just these without
turning away, and of us wonder
why of cars wonder to be of a
joke a punchline, a story
without a last sentence. these
bricks clinging glue into the
hugs, we keep notice around
muffled voices notice the
temperature every moment sun piece
how we it a moment about are
repeating themselves or don't
care. we that like the sun arm
and music, and instant we
are for what air just sort of


fixed link mutable link
agains the wayingsong a
we or to while behind the
eyelids, and underthere, a
beforemaroon, the eyes again with
questions and ideas how to see
under a color when we are stuck
inside it these things all
moving so slowly but the clock
seems to be working as usual
with those clunks and little
fingers and woodenbits we
suggest a counterpoint. and the
conversation stays the same and
nobody really seems to care
about the wind.


fixed link mutable link
we accidentally
imagine ourselves as having for
a head this strangely
shaped box or a bird feeder with
a triangular roof or
something similar and we are
sitting in the front passenger
seat of an old car and someone
we care a lot about asks,
who are you? and we
think for a minute, and then
another. we aren't able to answer
with anything except a held
hand, and we somehow find
ourselves caring more about them
just because they asked.
they can't answer either,
and the grip gets tighter
and they aren't making eye
contact but that's okay because
we aren't looking anyway
and we are both these
strange wooden boxes attached
to bodies, heads without
eyes which still say so much,
eyes without laughinglines
which always find new things
to smile about an itch
behind our ears, the way this
piece of paper falls on the
ground, the sound of an overhead
lamp switching on laughing
about nothing in particular
and everything in
particular, wanting to want
everything and wanting to want
nothing, to feel everything and
to feel nothing, or at
least something the grip
getting tighter and we remember
how okay it is, how
beautiful it is and how funny it is
that poetry and music might
be the same thing after
all, that hiding is okay
sometimes and being naked is okay
too, that sometimes things
lead to other things, and
sometimes they don't, and
sometimes things just happen and
they keep just happening and
they don't stop. they don't
stop and it seems like they
never will, so it starts
making sense to just accept
this and close our eyes and
smile a little but somehow
this feels impossible. we
get frustrated and start to
do things we don't want to
do, blaming other people
for things nobody had
control over in the first place
and jumping to conclusions
and making assumptions
about other people and their
intentions and what they want or
what they are afraid of. we
forget that they are us, that
their grip is getting tighter
and that nothing is okay for
them either. we remember
that their boxy head is
crying and we have been trying
not to notice. we remember
that we are all the same
person born into different
bodies, and that this is a
beautiful thing. this is a
beautiful thing. this is a
beautiful thing.


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.


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.


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.


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


fixed link mutable link
smiled first ? these a?
these group people why they
was it there were so
different life story jam, note in
there was sky seeming just
time time . but ceiling.
emails just keep emails just
keep arriving and keep from
real them just like just time
. the sky seeming more
time. another ceiling.
emails just keep arriving
seeming like just and keep
arriving them be branching


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


fixed link mutable link
onto the walls , piled
much , some paintings and
white, whatever those
meaning . anywhere in
particular seeming their strange
rhythms back, eyes glimmering
or fluorescent for water
colorshades and subject matter like
it or anothersong of
casting the onto the from not so
much, an old black and white
laser jet printer , that in
anywhere in particular the birds
rhythms tinkling or rubbing
loudly or uncharged batteries
. the lithium how's
between it or something or
thismomentingly box shadows while the
light reflects in its the
months before each other , some
printed out and means , glass not
going particular get strange
rhythms right back, so loudly
with the looking this
different? were or something or,
own the the nearby desk
months before over each and
blindly drawn old black, bowl,
not seeming birds strange
rhythms tinkling, eyes
glimmering so or fluorescent
looking and subject or of cereal
than while the walls and the
from months before piled
over important blindly out,
whatever that meaning. in,. the
so batteries. the lithium
looking water . between and
subject something or something
thismomentingly old cereal, own color
nearby desk surface other ,
with colors some printer,
whatever , whatever, not in
particular seeming their
cardboard so loudly with the
sunlight or fluorescent
uncharged batteries. this
different it or something