we accidentally imagine

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

our eyes and just listen

we, and let it go moment a

moment , and let go. we close our

it go. we just listen and

airplanes and feel warming our.

what could come from we

wonder from . we come. we wonder

what wonder what could come

really we wonder if anything

could it , and anyway we listen

to of all met pointing

toward to about the place. many

different types place . so back and

forth without leaving

because even roads of

eventually fade and always

patterns cloud come in a cloud of

we all something could

really or need or urge or or urge

way that these grid

patterns we know comes our

sitting don't up so they don't

they or us that looking away

that sometimes can just be

ourselves , they walk out of

happens sight . and another

doesn't matter, and glance

clock and wonder, we notice

that the shadow in us. around

into different shapes

one.

fixed link mutable link

and just like that, the

page turns for us. the next

series of random numbers fill

the screen and we begin to

imagine dots and we begin to

connect them and agree and

disagree with them, relate to

them and question them and

share them. the page glares.

we glare. everybody is

glaring and nobody is laughing

and then one of us starts

laughing, and another one of us

starts laughing, and we are all

laughing and the paper is

laughing and the inkdots are

laughing: the numbers are

laughing too.

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

again. ideas all these

colors and and concrete,..

spray, all we watch with a

smile. watch with a smile

while and interactions again

. ideas ideas and and, all

these permeating while

happens outlines of into other

of squares and trangles

into other things other

buttons fall fall. not going the

way we, point and colors and

ideas permeating. of squares

and trangles trangles into

into other things, always

seem to fall in the or. goals

sneaking but maybe expected or

intended, but we we expected but

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

kind of sound against we

pause and just breathe for a

thisthat thisthat ticking by by

making sniffling from

seasonal we recognize the sound

of people laughing and

somehow of harmony against the

windchimes and we but okay making we

lean more our ears our closer

lean our ears closer ears

closer trying to hear. a while .

where we breathe for a while

twenty.

fixed link mutable link

the smell of damp sticks

from outside. a slowmoving

sound. we notice how

everything is so pink maybe we

remember why, but for now we

don't. “can it stay like this

for a while?” and, for once,

it does.

three.

fixed link mutable link

the the stove to to

burning remember what had done

had had we can't the

attempts attempts to to fewer

words make even the the the

even the attempts

eight.

fixed link mutable link

we accidentally

imagine ourselves as having for

a head this strangely

shaped box or a bird feeder with

a triangular roof or

something similar and we are

sitting in the front passenger

seat of an old car and someone

we care a lot about asks,

who are you? and we

think for a minute, and then

another. we aren't able to answer

with anything except a held

hand, and we somehow find

ourselves caring more about them

just because they asked.

they can't answer either,

and the grip gets tighter

and they aren't making eye

contact but that's okay because

we aren't looking anyway

and we are both these

strange wooden boxes attached

to bodies, heads without

eyes which still say so much,

eyes without laughinglines

which always find new things

to smile about an itch

behind our ears, the way this

piece of paper falls on the

ground, the sound of an overhead

lamp switching on laughing

about nothing in particular

and everything in

particular, wanting to want

everything and wanting to want

nothing, to feel everything and

to feel nothing, or at

least something the grip

getting tighter and we remember

how okay it is, how

beautiful it is and how funny it is

that poetry and music might

be the same thing after

all, that hiding is okay

sometimes and being naked is okay

too, that sometimes things

lead to other things, and

sometimes they don't, and

sometimes things just happen and

they keep just happening and

they don't stop. they don't

stop and it seems like they

never will, so it starts

making sense to just accept

this and close our eyes and

smile a little but somehow

this feels impossible. we

get frustrated and start to

do things we don't want to

do, blaming other people

for things nobody had

control over in the first place

and jumping to conclusions

and making assumptions

about other people and their

intentions and what they want or

what they are afraid of. we

forget that they are us, that

their grip is getting tighter

and that nothing is okay for

them either. we remember

that their boxy head is

crying and we have been trying

not to notice. we remember

that we are all the same

person born into different

bodies, and that this is a

beautiful thing. this is a

beautiful thing.

five.

fixed link mutable link

quietingly, the

softmurmurs not trying to say

anything in particular or

convince anyone of anything,

prefering to let things just exist

the way they are and stay the

same when they need to stay

the same and change when

they need to change, or not

even need to stay the same or

need to change but maybe

instead want to stay the same or

want to change, or rather: it

just happens. it just

happens, and it keeps just

happening. the softmurmers not

even speaking about what's

going on or what's not going on

but instead just

mentioning about whatever is on

their mind at that moment,

letting it out and letting it go,

the sound waves not

disappearing but echoing off a

thousand surfaces and every

blade of grass, split and

muffled and distorted and

echoed until they sound like

dead trees, the sun pushing

the waves around a little

through the screen door, gnats

in the air just sort of

moving around.

twelve.

fixed link mutable link

we never seem to notice

the changes until they've

already happened. or at least

they are well into

happening. we wonder why that is:

the clouds evaporating and

the sun coming out, the air

getting so slightly warmer; a

single row of bricks painted a

different color. who the behinds

through before how's and where

when whenever the

againagain the words repeatingly

as we notice a little

cottonfluff drifting toward us. it

sticks to our ink, and we ask

again where meaning comes

from. a million coins being

thrown every instant, fields

of possibility so

terrifyingly wide staring us in the

eye so intensely we have to

look away and we notice this

little bug just flying around,

landing, and flying around

again. flying, landing, and

flying around again.

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.

nine.

fixed link mutable link

we are breathing. and we

are still breathing. one

thought and another passing by

in the street while we ask

ourselves if this is going

anywhere if we should instead be

focusing on something else like

the way the smoke is

drifting away from the incense

stick, or the sound our eyelids

make when we blink. is there a

place for rushing anymore?

the softmurmurs again,

reminding us about our breath: and

a little blue bird lands

on the windowsill. it is

singing.

eighteen.

fixed link mutable link

systems all around us

and our lives fracturing

breaking apart piece by piece as

we keep trying to glue

things back together with

words and theories and poems

and cathedrals

architectures in the mind and and later

in concrete, we begin to

feel jittery as we realize we

haven't stood up in hours, this

chair and its arms a little too

narrow, pressing against the

sides of our skulls, plurals

and singulars not having so

much significance to us now

when the lights are

flickering so subtly. we pray but

don't know who we are praying

to who we are praying for,

what we want, what we should

want. fading. fading.

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

caring that would never

have us more happy or the sun

laughing our and our blood wind

keeps pushing little we keep

an able to see is, doing,

these without transformed us

wonder trees of turn their

wheels. end turn out to part of a

joke without a punchline, a

last. these bricks clinging

to some glue into same the

timer keeps ticking and we

keep our best around

themselves while we can't but all

around sun piece of paper room

is glowing and feel it we

don't at all we don't care.

six.

fixed link mutable link

silence and quiet now. a

small voice humming and

laughing in the other room. a

crystal or some melting snow.

behinds toward while again

around where's or why's while

leftandright shrinking silently. a

wooden creak. a scratch. all

centers things happening all

around, things just happening

and just being the way they

are. and we realize that this

is a beautiful thing. that

this is a beautiful thing.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

as going with the one we

saw and that that the as with

the one end up just going

first and that seems least but

we these for different

responses, different ways we are

smiling smiling of don't why

smiled first first? these

social gestures us smiled

first gestures amplifying

who don't thought why was

funny when hear half of it

because there there were many

things going going on all every

single all it because there

were going hear half of it

because there it they didn't it

on at once in this a note the

ceiling be from people from to to

from real into entire ,

possibilities fanning out options

after options possibilities

fanning out some

incomprehensible we saw and that seems as

good seems at least we

instincts where we left them

circumstances dealing and smiling we

smiling we don't know we don't

know one these one of don't

know why because smiled

first of people thought the

joke joke was funny when hear

of it because there it

because of all at once, a

different so many things, a in in

single at once, a different

story, a different struggle

if there

thirteen.

fixed link mutable link

we wait for a few minutes

and wonder if it would be

okay for us to ask now: "is

this beautiful?" we wonder

if nobody noticed and we

watch the air just sort of move

around through the leaves. we

take another breath with the

sunlight and feel warmer.

throughs and arounds

behindingly the now nowing while

again the time continues and

stops and continues again.

circles of ink we close our eyes.

nineteen.

fixed link mutable link

the corner of the room

empty except for the little

grooves in the floorboard, we

smile. the moments going and

going in such a beautiful way

that we can't take our eyes

off it, noticing just how

inconsistent things are, how blurry

and arbitrary the

differences seem between things and

people and ideas, how musical a

painting can sound the ink never

seems to dry.

seventeen.

fixed link mutable link

marbles in a glass bowl,

not going anywhere in

particular seeming to wonder where

the birds get their

melodies, their strange rhythms

tinkling or rubbing cardboard.

the dark bottle looking

right back, eyes glimmering

so loudly with the

sunlight or fluorescent

flickerings or uncharged

batteries. the lithium looking for

water. how's this different?

asking between colorshades

and subject matter like it

were important or something

or something or something

or anothersong

thismomentingly or an old box of cereal,

casting shadows longer than

expected somehow while the light

reflects in its own color onto the

walls and the nearby desk

surface, papers scattered from

months before piled over each

other, some important some not

so much, some with colors

and blindly drawn

paintings and some printed out

from an old black and white

laser jet printer, whatever

that means, whatever those

meaning.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

good question or moment

or how we are laugh might be

next, if actually over these

years or ever we and ourselves

unexpected you are you are you ?” and

we are then cry begin to cry

and. and know. laugh, and

laugh aimless first when it

seems to comes to which so more

important with able to

handwriting we and we,, and we laugh

wonder we laugh, and laugh over

actually anything actually

changed anything actually over

these years or if nothing

really that nothing really

changes and we unexpected

question are know. and then we

begin to we. we begin laugh,,

and laugh. we see are so

aimless a to our ears much more

why we can't good

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

we best to pretend

little pretend best to pretend

our on outside becoming

heated the faster fewer

mistakes. the conversation

going the conversation going

. with fewer going with

fewer mistakes. a. every a

little repetition pretend we

aren't heated while we do

heated while we do to aren't to

pretend we aren't listening.

every a little pretend we

aren't listening. getting we

aren't listening. aren't

listening repetition little

little faster and with little,

a little faster a getting

best we conversation

mistakes while we conversation

heated on outside while

conversation going on outside

becoming heated

ten.

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

glowing and our

becoming we lungs ask questions.

laughing! we can't funny can't

help but smile smile the cue

shades shades of these colors

whose these names can't can't

remember lines lines lines. we

glowing and somehow glowing and

somehow breathe and we breathe.

we forget breathe breathe

and we breathe ask we we we

breathe in lungs breathe ask

questions how starts coming

colors on cue whose these names

we remember can't lines

incense is glowing and we we. to

ask questions. laughing!

isn't but can't funny on whose

can't remember lines lines

whose we lines we can't

remember and is still and our

lungs and we breathe breathe

we breathe laughing!

isn't it ask questions. !

coming back sun of of these

colors we can't so many lines.

and remember lines and

lines still glowing we we we to

ask . laughing! isn't it

funny how isn't funny how

isn't it funny! isn't it funny

how we when the sun starts

coming back these colors whose

and so and so the the stick

remember that the our lungs and

somehow becoming we breathe and

we help coming back right

names names names on whose we

can't lines many lines and so.

that the we is still our lungs

breathe breathe to ask

questions. sun smile when the but

smile when when the shades of

these colors whose we

remember remember. we remember

that that lungs lungs

breathe and and breathe and we we

it! funny how we can't help

sun starts coming back sun

starts when the sun right on

shades of these shades shades

these lines of incense is

still and and we our we we we our

lungs in somehow and breathe

and funny how we can't help

but back sun can't help of

these lines. we we many we

remember and that the stick of is

of incense incense is

still glowing and is still

glowing and is still glowing and

stick of incense is and

somehow of. still glowing

becoming smoke in our breathe

breathe breathe and becoming

smoke breathe and we to ask

forget to ask breathe and we

breathe we laughing laughing!

forget questions. laughing!

it funny how we can't smile

smile when the sun starts when

the the we help coming back

cue right on coming back sun

smile when the coming back cue

and so

four.

fixed link mutable link

it's hard to speak

sometimes. we are frustrated with

ourselves for our

inconsistencies once at peace and

allowing things to be just the way

they are and want to be,

always taking action and never

taking action,

leftandrighting with the leftandright

once again wishing things

were a different way or that

the coin had landed on the

other face; we can't figure

out who we are, and we aren't

quite sure if that question

leads anywhere hard to find

the energy to say anything,

too many responses waiting

behind each option which never

seem to go anywhere

positive, anywhere that doesn't

hurt anybody or dissipate

into the grass as if nothing

had happened in the first

place and we begin to wonder if

anything actually did or does

happen or if we had somehow just

thought it all up out of some kind

of desperation and

confusion aimed at nothing in

particular, cycles going back and

forth but never quite the same

way, always surprising

somehow and adding to the

confusion and lack of any sense of

place, the feeling that we are

nowhere and the feeling that we

are getting nowhere.

eleven.

fixed link mutable link

we keep asking

questions like “will this make me

happy?” when instead it might be

more interesting to ask what

it would sound like if the

leaves on every tree were poems

written on little sheets of

paper and everybody in the

world began to read them out

loud all at the same time and

then the wind began to blow

and the poems went flying in

the air all around and

everybody just watched it happen

in complete silence we

can't help but smile a little,

and then a lot. and someone

hugs the stranger to their

left and we all begin to

laugh. we ask ourselves

another question we can't hear

because of all the wind and

poems, and that's just fine we

realize we didn't want to know

the answers anyway when

there are so many confusing

and beautiful things all

around us anyway. we just keep

laughing and grabbing poems out

of the air, sometimes

deciding to read them and

othertimes using them as napkins.

the wind, the wind is

laughing too.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

values being when

anyone is saying or and we

ourselves don't saying or why we or

why are outside and why way

the are so many

possibilities or ways to build a chord

build a chord and roll seems

everyday color in the sky, a new

piece garbage tones desks.

different. our

seven.

fixed link mutable link

tangling wires into

these bizarre shapes, rugs

with strange colors and

melodies waitingly, taking deep

breaths before the speech where

we finally speak our

minds: "won't everybody

please, please stop this

cruelty? can't we see how

unnecessary it is?" some glass

window creaking under winds,

some oil spilled in a parking

lot. how again the why's and

who's before and after or some

some behind throughingly, a

manual for writers of research

papers about electrical

engineering and game theory,

complex analysis and early

marxist painting; the

walls of this place have

shoulders that are

sagging, somewhere in these

pages an actual answer to a

question that matters. a new pair

of jeans, a holiday

decoration left up for months, a

lightbulb which doesn't fit even

though we could have sworn the

size was right at the store.

color combinations making us

feel sick and wonder why we

care about the dissonance,

why we should prefer one to

the other. we conclude that

we're all just bits of air

moving with the waves of some

song we can't hear: now

banging on the wooddrums, the

thoughts and the doubts, hopes or

imaginations throwing fists at the

organ keyboard, some body of

loud waters, some

electrical structure groaning in

rains particles trapped in

the breezings, the sine

waves, the eyeballs thrown

left and right or up and down

or is that a sign of

happiness, of

peacefulness? who's to tell what's

harmony and what's dissonance?

who's to tell the words of the

song when each moment's just

a few bits of data? hard to

see the picture from a

pixel, hard to find the poem

through a word a letter an inkdot

the arounds and behinds

lost somewhere in the mix,

the breath being exhaled

before we even noticed it was

inside our bodies, each note

rising just a little higher or

just a little more like dirty

wallpaper: we ask each other where

it happened. where the

music got faster. where the

blue became green, where the

light was switched on and the

newer waves began to

interfere with things and distort

the shapes, canceling out

or multiplying or

performing more complicated

operations until the noise is noise

and the signal is noise and

the noise is still noise yet

somehow wider, more sideways

and spinningly and

uppingly and backwardly, more

harsh and out of sync, now neon

colorlines and batteries, strange

gaps in the spiral not

patterns but something about

them which makes us feel the

walls are moving further away

and the room is becoming

smaller, that one moment is

another and the second hand is

somehow different this time

around. we cannot help but go to

sleep again, this time with a

strange smile and already

looking forward to coffee. this

time with socks and a thicker

blanket. this time with the

windows open: and in comes the

cooler air.

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

without from one

happens and sometimes . and

sometimes things happens to

without are and sometimes

sometimes they are, that from one

to other without even

trying and

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

care,, on their own

somehow. we our eyes for and feel

are and feel like we are that

our foreheads warm to open

the sensation the ask

ourselves where they came and

scrape along every someone the

face of of , how a lot about,

how knot in happened

someone sort happen happen own

somehow moment that somehow it

foreheads outside. we we breathe

now where scrape wooden

scratch paint face of someone

the the on just close a a

moment and feel for a moment

close our feel like we are our

bodies , outside be, somehow be

now now . we the in our hands

ourselves where they came from

scrape along the and along the

wooden panels and walls every

and walls wooden every

freckle and scratch face each

knot, just happen on moment

eyes for moment close our

eyes a outside somehow

enough outside it to open the

sensation our now we notice small

dents in the floorboard

ourselves scrape what what where

and ask they came ask and

scrape panels and

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

inside it slowly seems

as with those as usual the

conversation stays the wind we or the

eyelids, and underthere a eyes

and ideas with questions

and ideas questions how see

with those those clunks and

little fingers a counterpoint

. and the the, a

beforemaroon underthere , a

beforemaroon again with questions

and to see under a color when

we are when when inside

things slowly all moving

slowly but but clock and little

woodenbits we suggest a

counterpoint and the. conversation

wayingsong agains agains to we or to

while ,, the eyes again and

ideas how to see under color

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

, going ear with that a

little and then laugh at how it

is that we like even think

about week , like to listen

suspect ) and

zero.

fixed link mutable link

and all at once things

are so quiet, a tiny hiss

from the walls, distant

clanging of a ventilation fan. we

breathe with the sunlight,

passing clouds causing these

little pulses in the sunglow

and somehow we feel it in our

toes even though we can't

quite tell why the wind

chooses the pitches it sings

against the window, why one

harmony should point to

another, why every story has some

sort of climax where

elements and trajectories

culminate into some bigger thing

as if we had been heading

there all along as if there

were some kind of purpose

behind the penscratches or

where this leaf decides to

fall in this rotting pile we

notice a pain in our lower back

from bad posture and some

strange sense of pressure from

the bottom of our right foot

now the ventilation fan

slowing down into a periodic

banging; we notice a coin lying on

the ground but we can't make

out which side it landed on.

do we care? is it good to

care? would it matter if we

knew? we are staring at the

coin and the coin is staring

back.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

twenty eight.

one.

twenty six.

twenty two.

twenty.

three.

eight.

five.

twelve.

twenty one.

nine.

eighteen.

twenty three.

six.

fifteen.

thirteen.

nineteen.

seventeen.

thirty.

twenty five.

ten.

two.

sixteen.

four.

eleven.

thirty one.

seven.

twenty four.

twenty seven.

fourteen.

twenty nine.

zero.