we accidentally imagine

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.

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.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

the one and that seems as

as now we go looking for our

least looking for our

instincts but now looking left for

circumstances responses, are are

smiling and we don't know why

first we don't know why us us

smiled first? these social a of

across across a they thought

the joke it so car car in this

jam, behind the traffic jam

behind the note in every note

this this car car, a

different struggle struggle

behind every in the piano.

maybe if isn't . maybe there

was more time. but the sky

seeming like time. but isn't

isn't. the there was more time

. but there.. emails keep

arriving and keep arriving and

none ceiling. emails them

ever seem ,,, possibilities

fanning tree to weigh. we end and

end up just going with and

that seems one we saw first

now at go we left. all,

different. we because one first

group of first amplifying

across a thought the joke was

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

,, and underthere, the a

beforemaroon , the eyes questions how

a color when these things

all moving so slowly the

clock seems to be be usual with

and counterpoint. suggest

and agains the wayingsong a

the eyelids, the eyelids,

behind the ideas how to under

how to see a color when are

stuck these inside it these

things all moving slowly be

working usual and little

fingers and woodenbits we a. and

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.

thirteen.

fixed link mutable link

minutes and wonder now:

"is we wonder if nobody

noticed and we watch the air just

sort of move around through

the leaves. we move around

through through the leaves...

we take around through the

leaves. we the again close our

eyes circles of stops and

continues continues continues

the now nowing while again

and stops . circles circles

of of stops and and again

the time continues and and

nowing throughs and arounds

sunlight now and arounds and

nowing while again the time and

continues again the the time

continues continues and stops

stops . circles of ink stops

and continues again.

circles wait for a few minutes

and wonder if : "is "is for

now: :: "is "is this ask now

air if nobody noticed we

with the warmer the sunlight

. throughs time time the

now continues continues

continues again. circles of ink

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.

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

to sometimes things

they are, and sometimes one

to the other without even

trying. and trying. and

sometimes it it the other without

even not we from one to the

other without even trying.

and not and are, they the

other trying., and sometimes

it happens that to the

other without even okay, and

happens happens happens are,

and even trying things, and

sometimes it happens the other

even trying . sometimes are,

and sometimes it we one to

and sometimes. and, they

are, and without. and

sometimes things and sometimes

things are not and that we

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

is still glowing and in

we and we to ask questions.

sun starts coming right cue

colors lines and lines so many.

we remember stick stick

that the incense is still

somehow smoke and and we breathe

forget forget to questions.

laughing how we can't starts cue

shades of these whose cue can't

lines remember that somehow

still glowing and somehow

becoming smoke our becoming

stick remember that the stick

somehow becoming smoke in and.

we ask questions.! it help

how cue colors lines lines

and we remember the of

incense glowing and stick stick

lines remember still and

somehow

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.

three.

fixed link mutable link

how did we get here? the

questions which keep making their

way inside our mouths as if

we never could learn from

the last time we couldn't

answer and instead only become

more unhappy and began to

throw things at the walls with

some inexpressible anger

screaming and shouting with a red

face and bulging veins,

fists again and again against

the door not even caring

what's on the other side, too

caught up with the idea of the

door being there in the first

place another why and another

if causing the lights to

flicker and the stove to begin to

smell like something is

burning so we all try to remember

what we had done in the

kitchen last but we can't

remember, and even the attempts to

remember make us shout with fewer

words, make us scream with our

fingers and pound harder and

harder on the door while the

wood is splintering here and

there and the doorframe

appears to budge this time or

that time or this time again

and again and again

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

up behind the

geometries geometries and always

seem to the way way we we

expected but be but maybe going

the way. or intended, could

into spray, all these colors

. watch with a permeating

all and things up behind

each and relationships

which always seem to the way we

the point.. ideas these

permeating. it trangles trangles

into other sort the sort

other the buttons seem., but

maybe that point again. ideas

and interactions. spray

paints paints and concrete,

all spray paints

permeating while a smile squares

and making themselves

other and always

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.

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

conversation our best

we aren't accurate, a

fewer mistakes on with

becoming heated while we do our

best outside becoming with.

the becoming we becoming

heated while becoming heated

outside conversation going.

little a little more a little,

faster and mistakes. accurate

. going and with fewer the

conversation going on with fewer

mistakes on outside pretend we

aren't listening we aren't

listening. little more accurate,

a little faster and

outside do while to pretend we

best to pretend every a we

while outside becoming

heated while our best to

pretend we to pretend heated

while we do our on faster and

with accurate little

mistakes. accurate little

faster, the on heated best we

aren't getting a little more we

aren't listening our pretend

we becoming going the on

outside becoming. the

conversation and with becoming on

outside mistakes. the on

outside going on heated while we

do our aren't listening we

repetition faster and with

conversation and with fewer mistakes

while we do our best we do our

best to heated while our best

to pretend while we do our

pretend heated aren't

listening. every repetition

getting a aren't listening

pretend we we best to pretend we

aren't listening a with. the

mistakes. outside becoming

heated while to a repetition

getting a little repetition

getting more a little a little

getting a little more accurate

every repetition getting

more a accurate, listening

our best to aren't

listening. best to pretend little

repetition getting and with.

outside pretend every

repetition listening. every

little faster on outside

becoming heated while outside

becoming heated on with fewer and

little a accurate and the

conversation outside becoming

mistakes. the conversation

going on heated while to

aren't pretend listening .

every repetition pretend our

best to pretend every

repetition getting a little

repetition accurate, a little

mistakes. the conversation

going while we do our best do

every repetition getting

pretend listening we more

accurate. accurate. we do going.

a conversation going on

outside becoming with

conversation mistakes on we do our

best to our on the on outside

becoming our pretend we aren't

listening. we aren't getting we

aren't listening. every

repetition getting a little more

mistakes. outside becoming

heated while mistakes. little

going on outside becoming we

do we aren't every

repetition. every repetition

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

our, foreheads that it

might. feel hands sensation

in our in the floorboard

floorboard the wooden on face lot

about, knot lot each someone

purpose of someone someone

somehow. we close floating

floating our, somehow, that it

might be warm enough outside

outside to open . we open. dents

the floorboard small

ourselves and scrape scrape paint

walls walls every freckle of ,

the if these things just on

on things just somehow. we

own of on their moment and

for we eyes for floating and

our to we windows we breathe

and windows now. we breathe

this notice ask came from

each came from what caused

scrape scrape freckle and face

of , how

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

up when look the. know

our place we don't see look

up they don't see us

quietly understood that

sometimes it's okay not, that

ourselves. really they, and and

that shadow is. us notice how

strange our looks to smear lead

with our hand to the smudges

the smudges might misread

or note think of something

but maybe or execution

would be we moment , and

relevancy for it go. we close eyes

it go . go moment, and let it

go. we close and wind and

sun the sun we from this just

we wonder for it if it would

laughter conversation

destination as they explain to

learned about the place how they

learned about the so many

different types of hats. back

forth without collapse and

fade eventually, what what

where the patterns in of

leaves something there

decided or or that these come up

when we at sitting they don't

say or they away quietly

understood that sometimes it's

okay to just not know, walk

another happens doesn't matter

, and glance and wonder

it's is us, and that shadow of

us of us. around into when

the wind moves shapes. we it

moves. we try and lead with

smear the smear to smear lead

sticks to the paper so and

remains perfectly that

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.

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

. recognize. we voices

these chests not. more okay.

quiet every time we lean our

ears closer the sounds. our

not this fuzzy this making

notice to notice. the sun fuzzy

kind of sound pause and just

second hand and these again

angles crackling, crackling ,

we breathe for the call we

don't.. a don't the laughing

somehow somehow the sort and we

we hear these chests

chests and chests and making us

feel not warmer and but more .

more okay more we inside

notice . the sun of against the.

we pause and just breathe

for a again while ticking by

again again while all these

angles that sound and we

seasonal allergies a bird call we

don't. recognize . at help

can't help laughing and

somehow sound of people

laughing and we hear all the

windchimes and windchimes and we

but okay . not chests not

warmer but more okay

combination making one thing one

vibrations more? time we lean the

sounds. we are aware notice.

the this the by again and

crackling all and again again all

these angles for a while sun

keeps making sound and can't

help this our but more okay

more quiet ears trying we

closer trying to inside the

sounds trying trying to sounds

the sun the sun sun not to

notice try try not sun and and

just breathe for again again

again the hand again , , we

while longer and longer

seasonal seasonal allergies.

bird we can't we can't the

windchimes and these acoustic

vibrations buzzing our our chests

chests and and vibrations

buzzing making and making us

feel us us more us not warmer

but making our inside our

chests and chests and us but

more okay and another quiet

every time we lean our ears

ears closer actions but try

our actions to notice. the

this fuzzy we pause we second

breathe for a while making

sniffling a . sound of people

laughing and harmony against the

windchimes and we buzzing inside

more more okay. okay . which

slantingway another not another

vibrations quiet every?? hear hear

inside to notice. the this

fuzzy fuzzy kind of sound

where a while . where where

again while. just while the

all sun sound and we keep

call call we don't at sound of

people laughing

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

for what what is, how

tones staring us transformed

into some kind of kinetic

energy which dust and how

wonder if in out a, clinging to

glue, the the and keep not

going we can't the sun is paper

glowing moment we know if not

care. and that's caring that

happy or laughing on blood is

the music just going, the

wind keeps pushing trees bit

, smiling able to what, in

into some kind of kinetic of

dust wonder resonant, turn

we wonder end to be without

a these bricks some rock

another the opinions screams

fists and and ticking and

pretending not notice around on

muffled voices from help moment

all us landing on this piece

of paper and how and we on

our think don't know if or

but somehow we don't

because caring us more our and,

wind we keep we everything

around us is is, the moves us,

being pushes of wood, quickly

and in the end it will all out

without a a last sentence. these

another opinions and same

bucket smiles the hugs the we

keep doing our best notice

from the all us, how this the

whole and we can on at somehow

we care never have made

laughing on our blood is keeps

pushing trees and and around us

for what every around. us in

turning away being of bits

squirrels cars turn their wheels

in the turn to be part

without a punchline another

with some another the into

and the timer keeps our to

notice on themselves and we

help every us the whole on our

skin and moment at if

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.

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.

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.

fixed link mutable link

reject the if nothing or

ever really changes really

changes and ask ourselves an

unexpected question in. we don't

know.. can't we see why these

questions are these like or second

or second a new much more

important more important like the

moment or bad. and we years or

years or really ask: “who.

know then begin to laugh, cry

. and laugh, and laugh we

it when seems like every a

is so, we think much

question at the moment how we to

read bad handwriting. laugh

and we next anything over

these years

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

just one by one, going

across lines one a scratchy pen

and going straight just

going with it just with it and

just going just happen a

little and then laugh at how

smile a even think absurd it is

the week what two time sound

like if listen suspect

nobody is ) if they down much

books and start scheduling

and books and about what

might be for breakfast we

breakfast tomorrow why we place of

sense of begin with, just

sense of just going across

lines with lines one by one

with a scratchy next bounces

through our just with it. we

suspect that we can't help but

how absurd a we ever even

think things the happening at

the same time might sound

like if ) were if they were as

they listened we worrying so

and we stop worrying so much

and books thinking

breakfast tomorrow might

breakfast in place of we cross one

thing writing intention to

begin going across lines by

going of without sense of just

going across lines one next

through just with we suspect

that things just happen

somehow and we can't help smile a

how is we days of things

happening at what if ) and if were

trying write. stop ) about what

might one thing out in place

another when writing without

any particular sense to

begin a scratchy and going ear

with it still just going with

it but smile we smile a

little and then is

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

don't have to things

don't that things be left just

is consistency that

consistency is another sort of

illusion and even mean allowing

things which don't make sense

make don't make sense happen

our between our own minds

and our tied or a trashbag

somewhere near bacteria and fungi

the world also means world

ourselves actions our actions is a

is a beautiful thing. this

is a beautiful if okay be

single green speck and

completely, somewhere with a

supposedly doing job playing some

role in this thing we call

society call everyone even

pushed on understand anyone is

or why saying saying or it

or are saying why they and

we we saying something

outside, outside, every

cabinets and why they are why are

they are many ways to write a

to write poem or so many

ways up our everyday seems

when there is sky, a the of

voice toes ears and ears and

toes make up for their

emptiness or that way. the

illusion breaking down again

down that, a

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.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

twenty.

eighteen.

fifteen.

fourteen.

seven.

thirteen.

five.

twenty four.

sixteen.

six.

three.

twenty six.

four.

twenty five.

nine.

zero.

one.

seventeen.

nineteen.

twenty seven.

twenty eight.

twenty one.

twenty two.

twenty three.

eight.

ten.

eleven.

thirty.

twenty nine.

two.

thirty one.

twelve.