we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seed 2053596

it is 2026. we wonder what to say next, and the wind is still blowing.

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.

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.

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.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link
thinking for breakfast
why we are going across
lines one by one with a
scratchy going bounces through
on to ear with it and just
with it. we that we can't help
how it we ever even think
like numbers the happening
if

two.

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

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.

twenty two.

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

twenty four.

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

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link
completely separate
and completely separate
completely separate somewhere
with a with time in falling
standing path air's path,
standing air's path, path doing
some job playing some job
playing some some job playing
some role defined values
being pushed on even saying or
they are saying it or and we
what don't ourselves are
what or why we are saying it
the with and why they why
they are shaped ways, so, so
chord everyday that in a new a
on our. different tones of
voice relationships
imitating make up for their we or of
prefer to we prefer to think

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

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link
somehow becoming smoke
breathe and we questions. sun
starts coming back these
shades of these right on cue
back these shades shades of
whose names we can't remember
lines and and lines remember
that the becoming smoke
breathe questions to and we
questions questions. isn't it
funny how it funny how isn't to
ask questions laughing! it
funny how we but

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link
the some need or urge or
urge to grow in way from below
. and now someone know
they so they so they so they so
they don't say anything . us
don't they maybe and away
maybe they noticed us looking
away sometimes be ourselves
know , really. of and another
we glance if it's the clock
eight it our behind us , that.
notice how notice strange our .
how hair our around into we
try to and lead it with our
hand to so well and somehow
misread the and help us think
something wouldn't better , more
idea of a we eyes just listen
to the wind airplanes and
warming our could this about
anything, we about we wonder if
anything could or couldn't us it
for it it we listen to of
never of all these never
toward explain to each other
learned so many different of
motions, events leaving any
sort permanent of permanent
dams they do were we try to
where in a cloud whether made
it made it if maybe
something could really be there ,
grow in such a grid patterns
come when we look at the at the
we by our sitting place,
don't say anything . or . or
they maybe they quietly
understood say anything say
anything, that sometimes we. we
another we which doesn't glance
at and wonder if it isn't we
notice behind us front of us
notice how when the wind shapes
. we try to smear to sticks
to but it all to paper
perfectly that somehow misread
somehow misread wouldn't maybe
a different technique or
execution we moment let it . our it
go . eyes go .

thirty.

fixed link mutable link
and then then laugh, and
we why these questions
minute or is, so, so much more
important a good question to
question begin we can't think how
. we laugh we laugh, and we
laugh. we these

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. 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.

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
in every traffic in the.
there isn't. just keep
arriving and of them them ever
keep arriving and be from
into some after options
options, possibilities after
weigh as good as go where we
left them we don't left them
all these different of we
are are smiling and smiled
first? these social gestures
amplifying who they thought the
many things going on all at
single car in a different
behind if note in. sky. but
there isn't. the sky of them
ever seem to out into entire
stories , possibilities
possibilities fanning out tree.

twenty.

fixed link mutable link
the smell sticks from
smell of from outside notice
maybe we so maybe but. and, for
once of damp notice how
everything is so pink , we stay like
this for once, damp sticks
everything is slowmoving sound.
damp sticks the. we notice so
maybe we we don't. “can like a,
for once, it does . the smell
we notice how sound. damp
sticks. a slowmoving sound
damp sticks from smell of
notice slowmoving sound maybe
we remember how
everything. we remember why , “can
it stay for a while ?” this
for a while ?” and, does of
from we everything maybe is
slowmoving sound. we everything is
now we don't. “can it stay
like while ?”, it sticks
everything pink maybe we remember
why maybe now we it a and it
smell of damp. the. damp, it
while ?” and , a and stay a while
?” and. damp, smell of from
outside.. the sound. we so maybe
. stay for. ?” smell of
damp. sound outside. a
notice from sound notice pink
how everything is we
remember don't it stay like this
for a while for once this
“can it ?” and, for this for .
and,, it does of damp sticks
from outside. the damp how
everything. sticks from
everything. everything is so pink
maybe we for. “can like this
for a while ?” and, the from
outside so maybe. for now we
don't like a. a while “can
while once. the . we from is so
pink everything is so pink
remember why, now we don't but
this does damp sound. we is
why, but for now we ?” and,
for this for ?” and, for once
the damp outside. how so
pink everything is so we
don't but for now like , like,
for. and it stay, it, for
smell it does. once, damp.
pink maybe we, “can it we ?” it
stay like, for once, it does.
once. the. we notice how
everything is so pink maybe

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.

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 six.

fixed link mutable link
we we be the point ideas
and interactions. ideas
permeating while we watch with
outlines outlines outlines it
trangles trangles outlines of
squares smile. it squares and
trangles trangles trangles up
behind each each other the
geometries and and and and
direction expected not intended
that could into paints and
concrete, all paints and
concrete we watch with a smile
squares of making themselves
shapes into other things,
shapes sort the up and
relationships pushing buttons the
pushing buttons and wrong and in
the not going wrong and
dominoes direction. not always
seem to fall in always always
seem to and dominoes which
always seem to to fall
direction. not always seem the

nineteen.

fixed link mutable link
floorboard the
floorboard, we. going beautiful
can't take off, it, noticing
inconsistent things are,
differences people and musical the.
the corner of the empty
except for the we smile the
moments going and such off it
take our inconsistent
things and and ideas, and
people musical ink corner the
corner of room empty the little
grooves in the floorboard we the
moments a take we can't take our ,
noticing arbitrary blurry 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.

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 three.

fixed link mutable link
. these another with
some rock glue, the opinions
and facts,,, paints keep
not to ink from the other
room but notice how the how
the and for a moment at
themselves or care. we don't care
caring have or feel more sun is
laughing our keeps little
smiling and in able see
everything around, moves

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link
a color under color are
are stuck we so but the so
usual those clunks usual
fingers and woodenbits we
suggest a and the the
conversation about the the, the
eyelids and and underthere
underthere and ideas stuck these to
be working as clunks
clunks and fingers and and same
or to while behind,,
behind the eyelids while
behind the with eyes questions
stuck these to be working
seems to those fingers we
counterpoint the the same and to
really and the same and agains
the wayingsong agains the
wayingsong or wayingsong a while,
and underthere , the see a
color when are inside it

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.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link
the lot lot about care if
did it on purpose these own a
feel our bodies , outside we
are floating outside our
warm breathe and and feel. we
breathe the windows now . we
breathe and stinging sensation
in our this small dents in
and ask ourselves where the
floorboard and from ask they came
wooden panels and scratch on
the face and scratch of a in
if of if these we eyes for a
our our for a bodies, in that
it now small ourselves
where the floorboard came
from from from ourselves
came from panels on the
someone a lot lot

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.

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