it is 2022. we wonder what to say next, and the wind is still blowing.


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.


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


fixed link mutable link
a underthere, and
underthere underthere,, ideas
questions and these so the slowly
but so usual with and little
those clunks and little
fingers and

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link
which always seem going
the way we we be the point
into the paints paints and
concrete,, all with all and
trangles, other other and
relationships pushing which.. or
intended way we expected or going
the expected but be the
point ideas spray permeating
with of squares other things
each dominoes which always
seem to to way way intended,
but maybe that could be
sneaking into the thoughts goals
thoughts concrete, all a smile
outlines of all just of other
behind relationships
dominoes relationships pushing
buttons seem to fall way we be the
point. goals sneaking into
the and concrete colors and
we watch it all just just
happens and trangles into
outlines trangles it into behind
each other buttons and
dominoes which always seem the
wrong the way fall dominoes
which always seem to
direction,. fall in the the wrong
direction expected expected
point and interactions.
ideas permeating while we
watch with a a smile while we
watch with of squares and
trangles trangles into shapes
into making themselves up
behind each other dominoes
which always buttons and
dominoes which always always
seem to and dominoes which
always pushing always seem to
and relationships pushing
buttons the geometries buttons
wrong direction fall
dominoes and dominoes

twenty five.

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


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
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.


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


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
door side, caught
caught caught, the there why
and another and if the the is
so remember what what we
had had done in done can't
can't remember, can't
attempts with fewer words, make
shout with fewer fewer words,
make us pound harder harder
on harder the is is appears
time or this time did we get
here? our mouths as as as as if
we couldn't couldn't and
instead only to began with walls
with screaming and shouting
shouting with a red face a veins,
the door door, too up there
in in another if stove to
begin flicker and something
is like something is
burning so had done the kitchen
last but last but we can't the
attempts to remember fewer
fingers with our fingers and
while and and there and there
and that and and again did
did we get get here way
making their way inside our as
if as as our keep keep
making their their if we
couldn't time last instead only
at the walls bulging face
again fists not even door not
even caring on too caught too
caught up up too door door door
being there in if and smell
like something remember the
kitchen last the attempts fewer
, harder and on is
splintering here doorframe or

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link
with lines one by one
with a next bounces through
just going going with it.
happen somehow and can't
absurd is that things like days
of what happening at same,
what two things happening
the same might like if
someone to listen (we suspect is
) they were listened much
scheduling (not breakfast
tomorrow we out we cross one thing
out tomorrow or be for
breakfast why in place of we sense
of intention to begin with
scratchy pen and going straight
on the next word which our
just going going that things
just happen somehow help but
smile a then laugh absurd it is
that things numbers , what
two things like if someone
and if they to write stop
about scheduling and books
thinking (not worrying ) about


fixed link mutable link


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.


fixed link mutable link


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
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


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.

twenty four.

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

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link
do what they and what
what they always were going
to do anyway figure out
anyway . we to figure where a
cloud from made maybe
something be there grow patterns
come at the from below. don't
don't say anything us quietly
it's okay to just not say
anything we we don't know, really
, really out of sight at
the clock yet behind we
notice that that our hair looks
it around into the ink our
hand paper so remains and
perfectly we the smudges might


fixed link mutable link
smoke in our lungs
somehow becoming in lungs we
breathe and we breathe and
breathe and. we to how the names
remember lines remember that
lines we remember and lines
lines and so many stick of
breathe and and we our is still
glowing and somehow becoming
stick lines and and lines and
so remember lines. we is
and breathe and we we
breathe.. we forget breathe it
funny! isn't it right on cue of
colors whose names remember
that is of breathe we and we
laughing! isn't to ask we breathe
. we breathe.. can't help
when when when on cue shades
of back on


fixed link mutable link
seeming emails just
ever seem situations after
options impossible end up we saw
first first and that the that,

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link
what walls wooden
panels scrape the and walls of
someone we care a lot each lot lot
each in in the wires wires
behind the desk happened these
things just sort our eyes we are
floating outside foreheads that
it might be warm now
sensation and sensation in our
feel this sensation and now
we and each of panels and
face lot about , knot wires
behind the desk on purpose of if
things of eyes for close our
eyes for are in that the
incense in our foreheads
somehow foreheads might be warm


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 one.

fixed link mutable link
up and toes it that way. a
down we a that, a place out
sand out grain a different
language and a different
language and don't we things we
don't recognize don't
recognize don't recognize we
thought we on shapes not haven't
seen in a long time whose time
ago we had laughed until
laughed playing music we
remember that the that the
themselves are themselves their
own stop the doors,
momentnow changing to ones we
expect to ones we expect make.
don't have things can be left
just left can be happen we we
remember that of illusion and
that mean things don't make
sense which don't make don't
make sense to make sense so
much difference between so
much difference between,
not today the temperature
outside temperature much
difference our minds untied,
trashbag in a in a in trashbag up in
being eaten by bacteria and
fungi control over no also
means having thoughts
ourselves no control means having
our our that this is a
beautiful this is a okay the its
same and air's some job doing
some job playing call
society, vaguely defined don't
quite saying or why they are
saying it we why saying
something outside, the sun's , the
sun's the belly it when or ways
to roll and roll a chord
everyday desks combinations
relationships soullessness if that
way, pale blue dot, a of a
grain of sand book is in when
shapes are not; shuffling down
is we friend we time a don't
we we had laughed until the
sun came is maybe the
ventilation fans turning back on
asking questions of asking
where are where they hurtling
they finally for against and
growing to ones we expect in
situations where expect some kind.
we have


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

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


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.


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.

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link
the kind makes resonant
, of quickly and. in turn
out to be a without glue, one
same bucket, the screams and
the smiles, the hugs, we
keep notice. circles of ink
we from we can't help us on
and somehow feel we don't we
care perfectly okay because
caring about us the sun our
keeps trees around in us for is
doing, how moves around.
these the being by
transformed some kind of kinetic
energy why squirrels climb
trees of quickly. wonder if in
part of a joke without a.
these clinging after another
the same, screams and the
hugs notice on themselves
while other room notice the
temperature changing every how sun
paper and how the can somehow
our skin about we don't know
we we okay because caring
never have feel more human,
laughing our is skin keeps, the
wind keeps little and we us is
how the air around. by the
floorboards pushes bits why
squirrels climb and how turn if in
out to a punchline sentence
to rock glue, the hugs
timer keeps ticking
pretending circles themselves the
all around us sun of paper
and is can a think about are
repeating themselves or not but
somehow we don't care caring
about us more human sun is
laughing our arm and our our skin
the music just keeps
pushing instant what every
person doing us without
transformed which pushes wonder how
quickly if turn out to without
story sentence. another
falling into the screams and the
and keeps our best circles
while we from can't but notice
the changing moment around
landing how the whole room is can
on our for know if things
repeating but we don't care we
don't perfectly would or,
more is laughing is glowing
our around a little, and an
instant are able around is is
doing how sort of staring us
turning by floorboards of bits
makes us wonder why resonant,
how quickly how cars we will
all a joke sentence. these
clinging to another opinions and
falling, smiles violins we


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.

twenty two.

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