x
we accidentally imagine
by andrew yoon
this is a book of mutable poetry. it exists along a
field of probability with an effectively endless number
of possible realizations. every time this page is opened,
a program generates an entirely new version of the book.
some elements change more often than others. the random
seed for the version you are looking at is 9033593.
because there is a seed number stored in this window's url,
refreshing this page or opening a link to this url
will render the exact same contents you see now.
if you would like to share or keep a link to this version of the book,
you can use this .
if you want to visit or share a random new version of the book,
use this one .
to link to an exact version of a particular poem,
hover over the poem's title area and click the link
which appears that says "fixed link". you will also
see one that says "mutable link" - this points to where
that particular mutable poem lands in a random new book.
try following the mutable links of a particular poem through
different versions and see how it transforms.
you can print or (if your computer has the ability) download a
print-ready pdf of this version of the book using your browser's
printing functionality. some elements of the display will change
to make it more suitable for printing. (you may want to modify your
printing settings to disable the automatic header/footer generation
most browsers do.) please note that as i make
improvements to the mechanics of the program, the content you see
here will likely change, even with a fixed seed - if you want a
truly fixed version, please use the printing method.
the code for this entire project is under the gpl3 license and is
completely free to read, use, and redistribute. the most up-to-date
code is available on github
here .
andrew is a composer, programmer, poet, and bad pianist. you can
find some of his other projects online at his personal website
here .
...
we accidentally imagine
by andrew yoon
seed 9033593
it is 2026. we wonder what to say next,
and the wind is still blowing.
because the longer we
stare at the details, the less
we are sure they even
matter.
. keep asking questions
like questions like me happy
make me happy make me happy ?”
when instead it might be more
interesting to what it sound like if
sheets of and to read at the wind
began to everybody just
it silence we can't help
stranger to stranger all. we ask
ourselves we ask ourselves can't
question we can't hear because we
confusing so confusing
out of to read them napkins
the wind, laughing keep
happy ?” might be more
interesting to ask what
. could goals
interactions concrete, with a
shapes sort other things,
shapes each pushing the wrong
the way intended the point
maybe expected or intended
goals thoughts again
concrete, while just happens we.
happens we. it it ideas all and
trangles into outlines of of
making relationships pushing
always in not we expected maybe
expected going going the way we
but expected maybe maybe
expected expected or intended
that intended. and
interactions goals interactions and
watch watch with a a smile.. it
watch with it with a smile
colors we watch with a smile
squares shapes sort of making
themselves up the seem the wrong
wrong wrong direction.
expected the expected or
intended.. goals sneaking
the thoughts spray spray
paints and interactions all
all ideas permeating
we watch with a smile. we
outlines of squares happens into
other just happens things
each other
wrong wrong and and and
relationships dominoes which always
seem going the way maybe that
could be the into the thoughts
interactions. and ideas permeating
permeating while we watch with
outlines it all outlines all and
trangles trangles themselves up
behind the geometries and fall
in the going the the that
point. goals sneaking be
goals interactions., watch
with a smile.. it trangles
shapes the seem the wrong
direction. not the wrong
direction expected or intended,
but but not going the wrong
direction. not going the way we we
that could be the thoughts
could be the thoughts again
interactions. spray paints all
permeating a permeating while just
happens
happens, shapes sort the seem.
but be sneaking into the and
paints and interactions. and
ideas spray paints
permeating while it outlines all
just just happens into up
behind geometries and
relationships in in not going or
intended intended, but maybe
that. goals sneaking spray
paints ideas concrete, all
these watch watch with
permeating all these colors and and
and ideas permeating while
these and ideas permeating
with a of just happens
outlines into other other things
and themselves trangles,
other things and sort
making themselves up sort of
making themselves up shapes
shapes sort the geometries and
relationships pushing buttons
geometries and relationships
pushing the geometries and
relationships pushing buttons and to
to fall in the wrong
direction direction intended,
but maybe that the
while we watch with a smile.
and trangles into other
things things each of
geometries buttons and direction
fall in the wrong direction
to fall dominoes fall we
expected maybe into the thoughts
again
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
that we can't take our eyes
off it, noticing just how
inconsistent
and arbitrary the
differences
seems to dry.
about.
wayingsong we or to while the
eyelids, a beforemaroon, with
questions ideas
under under a the clock seems
as usual with working and
and counterpoint. stays
stays the same and seems a
wayingsong a while behind to a while
behind the eyes under a a are
stuck these things moving
these moving seems the clock
to the be
and
suggest a the
to care seems nobody
care care about the wind. or
to to
again with questions and
ideas ideas
when
so slowly but the clock to
be
the care about the the a
agains agains eyelids, and
underthere eyes under when we we are
when we are are are
first and
for we all these different
ways of different
circumstances calling for and
smiling why
are smiling
social of know why they thought
the they
they didn't of hear of
many things hear were once
life
there was more time isn't. the
situations branching out fanning
out into weigh weigh up just
going we
least we
circumstances for different, them all
smiled first? these a group
people who don't know they
thought thought
because going a once, a a
different story different car
every note in the piano there
was more there ceiling just
just keep arriving and like
sky seeming
arriving from
just going with as
least our instincts but we
where these different
different responses, ways of
? smiled first
social gestures amplifying
across group know social
gestures amplifying
group know
the joke was
thought
many all
many things going on,
different, a different this
traffic different struggle
behind there was sky
we never seem to notice
the changes
already happened.
the clouds evaporating and
the
getting
single row of
different color.
through before how's and where
when whenever the
againagain the words repeatingly
as we notice a little
sticks to our ink, and we ask
again where meaning comes
from. a million
thrown every instant, fields
of possibility so
terrifyingly wide staring us in the
eye so intensely we have to
look
little bug just flying around,
landing,
again. flying, landing, and
flying around again.
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
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
beautiful enough and it's
surprising enough
may be the most beautiful
and surprising thing of all
at the moment.
one
. things are not
are
they, and sometimes
one to to
even even trying. and
sometimes things are not
, and
other without sometimes
things
sometimes things are not
other to
.. are that
.,
we accidentally
imagine ourselves as having for
a head this strangely
something similar and we are
sitting
seat of an old car and someone
we care a lot about asks,
who are you?
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
and we are both these
strange wooden boxes attached
to
eyes which still say so much,
eyes without laughinglines
which always find new things
to smile about
piece of paper falls on the
ground, the sound
lamp switching on
about nothing in particular
and everything in
particular,
everything and wanting to want
nothing, to feel everything and
to feel nothing, or at
least something
getting tighter
how okay it is, how
beautiful
that poetry and music
all, that hiding
sometimes and being naked is okay
too, that
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,
making sense to just accept
this and close our eyes and
smile a little
this feels impossible. we
get frustrated and
do things we
do, blaming other people
for things nobody had
control over in the first
and jumping to conclusions
and making assumptions
about other people and their
intentions and what they want
what they are afraid of.
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.
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
leftandright shrinking silently. a
wooden creak. a scratch. all
centers
around, things just happening
and just being the way
are. and we realize that this
is a beautiful thing. that
this is a beautiful thing.
it's hard to speak
sometimes. we are frustrated with
inconsistencies
allowing things to
always taking action and never
taking action,
leftandrighting with the leftandright
once
were a different way or that
the coin
out who we are, and
quite sure if that question
leads anywhere
the energy to say anything,
too many responses
behind each option which never
seem to
positive, anywhere that doesn't
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
thought it all up out of some kind
of desperation and
confusion aimed at
particular, cycles going back and
forth but never quite
way, always surprising
somehow and adding to
place, the feeling that we are
nowhere and the feeling that we
are getting nowhere.
how did we get here? the
questions which
way inside our mouths as if
we never
the last time we couldn't
answer and instead
more unhappy and began to
throw things
some
screaming and
face and bulging
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
flicker and the stove
smell like something is
burning so we all try to
what we
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
there and the doorframe
appears to budge
that
and again
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?"
window creaking under winds,
some oil spilled in a parking
lot.
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
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
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
song when each moment's just
a few bits of data?
see the picture from a
pixel, hard to find the poem
through a word
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:
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
patterns but something about
them which
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.
to
the to read we,. we laugh. if
anything actually changed over
these. we ask ourselves
unexpected question in return you
?” we
we laugh, cry begin to cry.
, these questions so
first
every minute or second a new
question so is so, so our ears
which so, important
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
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.
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
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
want to change,
just happens. it just
happens, and it keeps just
happening. the softmurmers not
even
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
dead trees, the sun
the waves around a little
through the screen door, gnats
in the air just sort of
moving around.
the smell of damp sticks
from outside. a slowmoving
sound. we notice
everything is so pink
remember why, but for now we
don't. “can it
for a while?” and, for once,
and
sun keeps while keeps
making sound
sniffling sniffling
we can't help but
laughing and and
voices
these
more
and
vibrations vibrations more
every time
aware
marbles in
not going anywhere in
particular seeming to
melodies, their strange rhythms
tinkling
the
right
so loudly
sunlight or fluorescent
flickerings or uncharged
batteries. the lithium looking for
water. how's this different?
asking between colorshades
and subject matter
or something or something
or anothersong
casting shadows
expected somehow
reflects in its own
walls and the nearby desk
months before piled over each
other, some important some not
and
laser
meaning.
and all at once things
are so quiet, a tiny hiss
clanging of a ventilation fan. we
breathe with
passing clouds
little pulses in the sunglow
and somehow we feel
toes even though we
quite tell
chooses
against the window,
another, why
sort of
elements
culminate into some bigger thing
as if we had been heading
there
where this leaf
notice a pain in
from bad
strange sense of pressure from
the bottom of our right foot
now the ventilation fan
banging; we notice a coin
out which side it landed on.
do we care? is it good to
care?
coin and
dams
anyway
there
such
by
don't say
anything
another
it's
help us of wouldn't
otherwise, but maybe question
relevancy for a go
and feel warming our legs.
from anything
anything, really if
anything or couldn't prepare,
we've never
and
collapse and
and just do
they
figure
and wonder if it would be
okay
if nobody
around through the leaves. we
take another breath with
behindingly the now nowing while
again the time continues and
stops and continues again.
circles of ink
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
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.
and violins
pretending of ink going around on
hear muffled room and we the
us landing on
if don't care and that's
perfectly would human laughing on
pushing trees and in is, every
person the air moves around.
eyes turning into some kind
pushes bits makes us wonder,
squirrels cars turn we if will
without a, clinging with some
facts same bucket, the, the
fists and the violins we
circles of voices we all the
piece of is feel it on our skin
we all. if not because
caring or like blood and the
music just keeps going,
smiling everything is object
the staring in
wonder why wood how squirrels
climb trees the end out to be
part of a a to another the,
hugs, the we doing our going
muffled voices from the the sun
the whole somehow think
anything at all things are
repeating we don't care and
because caring about that happy
feel like the sun laughing on
our and our blood is the
music just keeps pushing bit,
are able see everything us
what air just. the being by of
another with after into, smiles
the hugs, paints the timer
keeps our best of ink going on
room and notice the moment
all around us landing room
feel it a think about know or
okay because caring about
made or feel more human, sun
is on blood is and little
bit and and it is, doing just
tones staring eyes by energy
which and makes us
wood so resonant, how
squirrels climb. the to be part of
joke without a with one
opinions and same bucket, hugs
the keeps ticking doing our
best circles of themselves
and we notice the
temperature changing moment, how
the on and is glowing
somehow feel it on our a think
things are but somehow care
because caring about that would
us more more on our blood
and pushing trees a and we in
instant we see everything
around us for what it is, what
every person and air without
being floorboards and kind
bits makes is resonant of and
how. we wonder end will be
part of a joke without a these
bricks with some rock opinions
facts falling into screams
the fists and the
themselves while we can't help but
moment the this piece of room
somehow feel
care because caring about
feel
systems all around us
and our lives fracturing
breaking apart
we keep
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
much significance to us now
when the lights are
flickering so subtly. we pray
don't know who we are
to
what we want, what we should
want. fading. fading.
hands
dents where from scrape along
and walls and face of we a
behind purpose of of own
somehow our eyes
somehow in to
caused
caused each
panels and walls of paint
happened happened did it just
sort
happen
their
outside foreheads
knot in the on purpose these.
we
warm enough
dents in
they came
we forget laughing
breathe
breathe smoke smoke in our lungs
questions laughing but smile when
it! we can't help isn't how
we matter something
that to
care
make
. we care
headache away which keeps
distracting us from
going everything
everything
much we
much
cross one
place of another
intention one to word our with
and we
,
the
what two things happening
someone
start worrying )
thing
color is a a new our desks
garbage on tones of words, while
relationships imitating meaning up
and our up soullessness of
prefer to of prefer. reminder
that we are a blue sand out is
in a different language
and don't recognize even
when we we had a and on a
librarian
had came back
ventilation
galaxies themselves are
themselves are asking questions
are asking questions of
their own, for a, the to ones we
expect in situations expect
that things don't be
is step away could which
don't make the shoelaces
or untied, up tangled off
or or off bacteria that we
remember over control over the
actions,, our a. thing and
that's be let it be, if, if we if
drift pollen we if we watch the
following a single
together the same goal the air's
path the air's path,
standing around, standing,,
vaguely defined values pushed
faster and with fewer
mistakes.
mistakes, listening. every
repetition getting every
listening repetition
repetition getting a little more
accurate, faster and
becoming heated while we
conversation
becoming we best getting a to
pretend while mistakes
conversation going.
fewer mistakes