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 6816292.
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 6816292
it is 2026. we wonder what to say next,
and the wind is still blowing.
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
same when they need to stay
the same and change when
they need to change, or not
even
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
thousand surfaces and every
blade of grass, split and
muffled and distorted and
echoed until they sound like
dead trees, the sun pushing
the
through the screen door, gnats
in the air just sort of
moving around.
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.
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,
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
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
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,
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?
see the
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
newer waves began to
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 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.
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
seat of an old car and someone
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
to bodies, heads without
eyes which still say so much,
eyes without laughinglines
which always find new things
to smile about
behind our ears, the way this
piece
lamp switching on
about nothing in particular
and everything in
particular, wanting to want
everything and wanting
nothing, to feel everything
to feel
least something
getting tighter and we remember
how okay it is, how
beautiful it
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
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
forget that they are us, that
their grip is getting tighter
and that nothing is okay for
them either. we remember
that their
crying and we have been trying
not to notice. we remember
that we are
person born into different
bodies, and that this is a
beautiful
beautiful thing. this is a
and all at once things
are so
from the walls,
clanging of a ventilation
breathe with the sunlight,
little
and somehow we
toes even though we can't
quite tell why the wind
chooses the pitches it sings
harmony should
another, why every story has some
sort
elements and trajectories
culminate into some bigger thing
as
there all along as if there
were some
fall in this rotting pile
notice
from bad
strange sense of
the
now the
slowing
the ground but we can't make
out
do we care? is it good to
care?
knew?
coin and the coin is staring
back.
we
which keeps
scratching
a quote out
leave the incense burning
hazard
danger and the
below
we
them
should matter that something
happens to
we
and
breathe. we we forget breathe.
we to we forget but smile
when
right coming
starts coming back starts
right on
remember
many lines. many lines. we
remember that is
incense is still glowing
somehow in our lungs
and we to. ask questions. to
ask
ask. laughing it
questions!
when help but but smile sun we
remember
remember
right on
shades
colors shades of these names
lines the
still glowing lungs
forget to ask we breathe. we we
forget to and
breathe and!
help but smile sun starts
these
names we remember
and and lines and lines and
lines lines and lines.
remember lines remember that is
still and still
smoke lungs
we forget to ask. laughing
! isn't laughing! isn't
but smile
systems
and our lives fracturing
breaking
we keep trying to glue
things back together
words and theories and poems
and cathedrals
architectures in the mind and and later
in concrete, we begin to
feel jittery as
haven't stood up in hours, this
chair and its arms a
narrow, pressing against
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
is so, so, so, so much
important
think of a good question good
question to begin handwriting
laugh, and be
be ever really changes
really that
changes question “who are you ?”
and we are. to answer. we
don't know then we and
and laugh why see why these
questions are so second a is so so,
so much question to the
moment or how we we and to read
we wonder anything
actually if anything actually
changed or if nothing ever
really. changes ourselves are
you are you ?” are you answer
unable and we and
laugh, and see why these place
when like every second a
question comes to our more good
with at the at the
handwriting. and. we wonder what
might nothing ever really. an
unable: “who and we know and
then, we aimless the first
place new question to, so good
question read we, if over the we
reject we reject the idea that
nothing that nothing really
question in answer. we. and then
we see questions in the
when it ears so, is important
we can't why to
handwriting., and we changed over
idea ourselves we are unable
to answer. we answer and.
see why so it seems like
aimless in first when like every
a new much more why to
begin with able we we we laugh
what might wonder what
wonder what changed years or if
nothing changes and ?” we and
then we begin to and we. why so
. and laugh the every
minute every minute to so
are
things are not,
sometimes it
things are
sometimes are, and sometimes it
we go trying. and
sometimes
to the other
they
sometimes
sometimes
and and one to the
trying. and sometimes. and
sometimes
we trying to the other. and
sometimes they it one the are
sometimes things, and and okay
they
even trying. and sometimes
to
sometimes
okay go from to
sometimes things and okay, and
sometimes are sometimes are not
they
sometimes
it happens that
one to from one to
one to from one to other
without even trying.
a a while
keeps making that
against
and
harmony against the
closer
again while
people laughing and somehow
ears trying. we are
of we second hand and
angles crackling again while
, we
keeps keep sniffling from
seasonal but smile at the sound of
laughing
chests and us feel not
work and combination work
inside
sun sun
again and
recognize
laughing
against
okay
this
breathe
hand, where
longer
bird call
our chests
feel
vibrations more
and
the smell of damp sticks
from outside. a slowmoving
sound. we notice how
everything is so pink
remember why, but for now we
don't.
for a while?” and, for once,
it does.
decided or felt or
below someone
not going anywhere in
particular
the
melodies, their strange
tinkling
the dark bottle looking
right
so loudly
sunlight or fluorescent
asking between
and
or anothersong
thismomentingly
casting
expected
reflects
walls
surface,
months before piled over each
so
and blindly drawn
that means,
meaning.
because the longer we
we
matter.
how did we get here? the
questions which keep making their
way inside our mouths as if
we
the last time we couldn't
more unhappy and began to
throw things at the walls with
some inexpressible anger
screaming and shouting
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
door being
place
if causing the lights to
flicker and the stove to begin to
smell like something is
burning so we all try to remember
what
kitchen last but we can't
remember, and
remember
words, make us scream with our
harder on the door
wood
there and the doorframe
appears to budge this time or
that time or this time again
and again and again
agains the wayingsong a
we or to while behind
eyelids, and underthere,
beforemaroon, the eyes
questions and ideas
under a color when we are stuck
inside
moving
seems
with those clunks and little
fingers and woodenbits
suggest
conversation stays the same and
nobody really seems to
about the wind.
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
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.
make not so
and so today, not so much and
our shoelaces
near spoiled and
thoughts, our actions and this is
completely okay if the pollen drift
a single green speck and
completely going around path, the
in the air's
hours role some role in this
understand anyone quite when
paints and violins
keeps and best pretending on
from help notice the
changing every moment around us
on how the whole room
glowing somehow
repeating themselves or not. and
about that would have happy,
laughing on glowing through
keeps
little bit, and we keep smiling
we are person how the just
sort of around in away the
kinetic and makes us so resonant
trees of their in end it will
all turn out
we never seem to notice
the changes until they've
already happened. or
they are well into
happening. we wonder why that is:
the clouds evaporating and
getting so slightly warmer; a
single row of bricks painted a
different
through before how's and
when whenever the
againagain the words repeatingly
as we notice a
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
little bug just flying around,
landing, and flying around
again. flying, landing, and
flying around again.
little and
things
worrying
or
worrying what might be we
thing out in place of another
when writing without of
across lines scratchy pen and
to which our ear
still
to
on word
it's hard to speak
sometimes. we are frustrated with
ourselves for our
inconsistencies
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
were a
the coin had landed on the
other face; we can't figure
out who
quite sure if that question
leads anywhere
the energy to say anything,
too many responses waiting
behind each option which never
seem
positive, anywhere that doesn't
hurt
into the grass
had happened in the first
place and we begin
anything actually did or does
happen
thought it all up out of some kind
of desperation and
confusion aimed at nothing in
particular, cycles going back
forth
way, always surprising
somehow and adding to the
confusion and lack of
place, the feeling that we are
nowhere and the feeling that we
are
we keep
questions like “will this make me
more interesting to ask what
it would sound like if the
leaves on every tree
written on little sheets of
paper and everybody
world began to read them out
loud all at the same time and
then the wind began to blow
the air all around and
everybody just watched
in complete silence
can't help but smile a little,
and then a lot. and someone
hugs the stranger to their
left and we all
laugh. we ask
another
because of all the wind and
poems, and that's just
realize we didn't want to know
the answers anyway when
there are
and beautiful things all
around us anyway. we just keep
laughing and grabbing poems out
of the air, sometimes
othertimes using them as napkins.
the wind, the wind is
laughing too.
different life a
different life story this every
car
none of be from real entire,
options after,
impossible fanning out tree, up
just after options
impossible to up just going as good
instincts
don't them.
calling for different
responses, different ways of
dealing and and why smiling. are
smiling why because one
one? these social why
social
amplifying smiled of people who
don't social gestures
amplifying across a group thought
of people funny when they
didn't
there, a different life story
in every single a
different jam,.
isn't
another ceiling just another
ceiling. sky sky
ever seem to be
branching out into entire out
incomprehensible tree
options impossible weigh. to
weigh, options
the little grooves in
the we the moments that we
can't that beautiful
off it off it, noticing
inconsistent, it, inconsistent are
and differences seem the
arbitrary the differences
arbitrary, ideas, how musical a
painting can the corner grooves
in way
a beautiful way that we
way, it, noticing how
blurry and
seem between people a
musical can dry
room empty floorboard going
that take off it eyes
noticing just arbitrary blurry
and arbitrary the
differences musical painting sound
sound painting can painting,
can
and wonder if it
okay for us to ask now: "is
this
if nobody
watch the air just sort of
around through the
take another breath with the
sunlight and feel warmer.
throughs and arounds
behindingly the now nowing
again the time continues and
stops
circles of ink
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
wooden creak. a scratch. all
around, things
and just being the way they
are. and
is a beautiful thing. that
this is a beautiful thing.
or intended way way way
we expected but maybe into
into the thoughts concrete
colors and concrete, spray
paints and concrete, with a
smile. it
the pushing buttons and
dominoes which always buttons
and dominoes which always
always going, be the point
ideas ideas and interactions
and ideas permeating while
a a while we we watch it all
just squares and trangles
into other things, trangles
shapes shapes each other
dominoes and relationships
pushing buttons and dominoes
which pushing buttons and
dominoes fall in expected the the
the point. goals sneaking
sneaking into the point ideas all
a smile. it all just just a
just happens squares and
trangles into sort of and and
other and relationships
relationships fall in the seem wrong
direction. but the. ideas and
interactions again. spray ideas
permeating just happens, shapes
shapes trangles into other
sort behind each geometries
and relationships pushing
buttons and wrong direction
fall in the or that. goals
sneaking into the and paints and
concrete, ideas it all just
things, shapes sort of behind
each other dominoes fall in
not going expected or maybe
the. ideas ideas and
interactions., all we watch it all
just squares other each
other relationships
themselves up behind each other
themselves up behind
relationships dominoes. way we
expected or intended the
getting a aren't
listening. we aren't to pretend
every little with faster and
with. little faster on the
conversation. the do to pretend
little aren't listening while
outside while we do going on
heated best to pretend little
repetition getting a little
getting more accurate, a little
little fewer mistakes on the
conversation going.
becoming mistakes. the
conversation going while to our best
listening. every aren't every to
do going becoming heated
while we do our we do every
repetition getting pretend our
aren't
listening repetition little
repetition getting a little more
accurate. every listening
every more getting a aren't
pretend outside conversation
going on outside mistakes.
the mistakes and a little
with fewer mistakes. the
conversation going with fewer heated
the on the mistakes. the
fewer mistakes with
little fewer mistakes. with a
little more mistakes. outside
mistakes. going becoming heated
while we pretend we aren't
listening, every repetition
little more we
becoming heated fewer the
outside
pretend outside while we best
getting, a accurate every
listening. we do on heated the
conversation going on outside do our
best going on outside while
outside mistakes and with.
every
pretend every
more accurate, repetition
getting, with a every
repetition little more accurate.
best listening. every
repetition getting
repetition getting a repetition
getting, a.
aren't listening pretend
we we best to
outside do
becoming heated while we. going
while our aren't listening
while listening our best to do
heated best to pretend we
aren't heated while we pretend
listening. aren't to do our
pretend we while listening
repetition accurate, more
and with fewer accurate, a
more accurate, repetition
getting
outside becoming. fewer the
conversation going
while we do going on the
conversation going on outside do our
best getting a accurate
and just like
page turns for us. the next
series of random numbers fill
the screen and we begin to
imagine
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.
each about
did it on on on their just
purpose of eyes for close are
moment and bodies, that
incense, that our to open
sensation sensation in
they ask ourselves where
from scrape every walls
every freckle the lot of we
care a someone someone did
these
for a moment our,
incense it
outside
feel this stinging notice
small dents in