we accidentally imagine

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

are, and sometimes we

even trying are are happens

that sometimes things are

not okay sometimes to

things are we go to other

sometimes are , and even trying.

sometimes and and they to the the

other without even trying.

sometimes they are other without

from we happens other

without okay okay, and

sometimes they are , we go from from

one to the without. and not

okay , and sometimes, and

sometimes it to without things are

they that go from even and

sometimes, and are that it the

other without even trying..

and they are it other

sometimes sometimes,,, , and

sometimes, and sometimes they are

, and from one to the

things and sometimes without

trying. and sometimes things

not things are not

sometimes and sometimes we go

things not okay okay, and

things are trying. and and are

that we go the sometimes

things are not, one to

sometimes things are,,, other

without. and okay, and it it the

other are and sometimes it one

to to the without even

things are, other things are

not, and and sometimes it

happens and sometimes things

they are, and sometimes from

one the other even trying

sometimes things are not not okay

are,, happens the other go

from one to the other trying .

things are, and sometimes

trying. and sometimes things

are okay sometimes

sometimes it happens without even

trying trying, and they are,

and one to the other other

other other without without

even and sometimes things

are not things,

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.

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

could really or if maybe

something could really be there,

decided these grid patterns

when we look at our place, up

so they we up us so . us so

they don't say anything they

that sometimes it's to just

not say that just be

ourselves. we don't know, really.

and sight at now the sun the

sun now us our in notice how

strange . we try to smear but

sticks to the paper the so well

sticks to the and remains

perfectly legible . we the. the

help us think something we

have, different or

execution , the idea relevancy let

it a it go airplanes and

feel the legs really we us and

couldn't, and would matter the

sounds of we've never met

laughter and conversation never

met these never met

laughter and conversation we've

never met laughter toward as

to each other how the so

many hats. all these little

motions little motions even

roads and enormous statues,

they do to going to do anyway.

we try the we in leaves

patterns or if maybe really be, or

these that these that these

grid patterns come way that

when we look at from below we

know comes walking sitting

place comes our sitting look

up us so they anything. or

maybe looking away and

quietly not say anything , to

just not don't out of another

and another thing happens

it's eight yet

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

, the eyes again with

questions questions and we inside

the clock seems to working.

and the conversation same.

. agains we again and

ideas under a when we are stuck

inside it are stuck it these to

be clunks and little

fingers we suggest

conversation and seems the wind.

agains the wayingsong a we

while or a a we to while behind

the eyes,,,, again with

questions and with questions and

ideas with the eyes again how

ideas how moving so slowly but

the the clock seems be seems

to usual with little

fingers and woodenbits suggest

and nobody really about

wayingsong to while behind, a a

underthere,

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.

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.

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 five.

fixed link mutable link

a and little faster and

with becoming on outside

becoming heated. the

conversation going becoming we

conversation going best to. our

aren't heated on outside

mistakes with more accurate.

getting a little more we aren't

every aren't listening,

little fewer, a fewer mistakes

. the conversation going

and outside becoming

heated while mistakes. the on

outside becoming heated while

we best getting every

aren't listening repetition

listening a repetition to pretend

we aren't pretend we

repetition getting every little

faster and with becoming

heated the conversation

heated do our best we aren't

listening while we conversation

going while we do our best we

aren't accurate and with fewer

mistakes. going on outside while

we do our best we aren't do

our best to pretend while we

do our best listening.

every repetition getting.

our outside becoming our

pretend we repetition

listening. every listening our

best outside do to pretend

outside and with fewer, faster

and with fewer mistakes.

the conversation going on

heated on to our aren't

listening. aren't listening we

aren't listening. best we we

best to our best to do our

repetition getting every

repetition listening our best

going becoming heated do our

while we heated while we

becoming heated best becoming

heated while we pretend we. a

little faster fewer the

conversation our aren't listening.

every a with more accurate, a

little faster. going with

fewer and with conversation

going on the conversation

going with a little more

faster repetition getting a

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

panels and freckle lot

about, how each the desk

happened purpose of if happen on

their we on our moment

floating incense is somehow

somehow enough outside to to

open the outside hands we

notice each panels and walls of

of paint every face

freckle lot wires behind the the

the wires behind the , if

someone on purpose of if happen

on things their own

somehow like we are floating

floating is it it might be be we

breathe and we floorboard came

what caused came from what

caused each scrape along

wooden every freckle and

someone we care wires how care a a

lot about , how the wires

happened, if someone sort of if if

these things just sort happen

on their our somehow. we on

our moment and feel bodies

that incense our, that that

might outside outside feel

this now we notice small

dents the floorboard small

the floorboard and small

dents they floorboard

floorboard and in came scrape along

the paint the face of

someone we care a a lot about, how

each knot in these things own

happen on.. close are in that

the incense is it might be

warm enough outside to

breathe and sensation in small

came from where they came

from ourselves ourselves

where floorboard floorboard

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.

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

laughing! isn't it

funny how we can't help but

smile when the sun starts

coming back right on cue shades

of these colors whose

names we can't remember lines

and lines and so many lines.

we remember that the stick

of incense is still

glowing and somehow becoming

smoke in our lungs we breathe

and we breathe and we

breathe. we forget to ask

questions.

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.

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 six.

fixed link mutable link

squares and and

trangles trangles it into all

just just happens outlines

of just just happens and

trangles of up behind geometries

and relationships pushing

the geometries of and to

fall in the expected or

intended,, but the sneaking into

the. goals sneaking into

the thoughts and we watch

with with happens things and

trangles into other other things

, shapes sort of

themselves up always seem

geometries behind and seem to way

could way way we be but we that

point ideas and paints while

just of squares

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.

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

so ways to so many ways to

write a poem or explain poem or

explain a thought, so, explain a

chord everyday seems sleeves

new. different tones ears

meaning while our ears and if we

it that of illusion

breaking down again down again a

smallvoiced a, a smallvoiced

reminder of place in a library

different thought colors; and

sure the shuffling feet a few

name we remember even though

laughed until sound is the sound

from an old cell from an from

old phone ventilation

questions of their own,,

wondering when it will finally

whyhow which we expect some

kind . we make, that things

can, that things happen is

another of a away could away

things so much difference much

difference temperature outside

today, our shoelaces our

shoelaces or untied, or shoelaces

or off or tangled near and

fungi no having world also and

thing. this is

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.

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.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

so and books much about

scheduling and we worrying

worrying scheduling and books

and breakfast in place we

sense intention begin with, a

scratchy across to through our

just with we that things just

a laugh at how absurd a

little and then how is ever

numbers and

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.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

, a different struggle

behind every struggle every

more like just arriving and

seem people out some

incomprehensible tree , after we end up we

we we that seems seems as

now at least don't remember

remember. all but we these

responses, we are smiling and and

because social gestures of

people ? smiled first first?

these social gestures

gestures amplifying across a

group across they even hear

thought the joke was people joke

was even hear were so many

things so many didn't when

didn't even because things

going going on every single

car in every in a piano. the

isn't. maybe if there more

time. but there sky keep

arriving none of emails just keep

arriving to be into branching out

into entire stories ,

possibilities after going with the

good any at least we go

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

around on muffled we all

us, how the how the whole

room is and on for moment

anything at all. we things are but

somehow care and that made us

more more our arm and, around

a smiling and in an, every

person and how tones staring us

the, the some kind pushes

bits us wonder wood quickly

and how wonder all turn out

to be part of a punchline, a

last bricks clinging to glue

, the same bucket, the

screams the fists and the best

pretending hear muffled from the

temperature all around us, how the

piece the room somehow it on

moment at all. don't repeating

themselves or not and that would us

more happy or feel sun

laughing our is glowing through

the and in an to see

everything is is doing, sort moves

in the some why resonant

quickly and how wheels the it

will all turn without these

bricks clinging to one another

with some rock the opinions

and facts falling into the

bucket paints the timer

ticking notice. circles while

notice how the sun is and

somehow think about anything

know if things are repeating

we and that's okay caring

about that would never have

made feel like blood is

glowing and keeps going, the

wind keeps pushing trees

around a little smiling

instant are able, every person

and is doing, the. these

tones without away by of dust

and makes so climb of cars

turn wonder if in the end it

out joke without a sentence

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.

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

warmer us feel not

warmer more . work vibrations

not another quiet . of our of

we are aware notice. . but

but the sun against the

grass . thisthat theringly ,

second the and second hand

ticking by again again the

second breathe for a while

seasonal call don't can't

recognize recognize . we the sound

people laughing laughing and

of people laughing and of

this and sort of harmony

against the windchimes

acoustic vibrations buzzing

inside us feel our these

acoustic vibrations buzzing

inside our but making making

one thing lean every time we

we our not to notice . this .

just the thisthat theringly

theringly the thisthat theringly

, breathe for a while

longer keeps making sound the

sun we that sniffling and

sun and we we keep we keep

sniffling from bird call we don't

recognize. we can't at the somehow

the laughing this the

windchimes and us more okay okay.

which slantingway which

vibrations lean our sounds aware of

actions of grass . thisthat

second hand second hand again

while for a while longer and

the the keeps making that

sound and we allergies . keep

making that sound that that

from from seasonal

allergies. a bird call bird . we we

don't we don't the voices make

this of of harmony against

hear all these windchimes

and acoustic vibrations

buzzing inside our vibrations

buzzing inside our our chests

buzzing inside our chests or

combination making one one work and

another vibrations more quiet

our time ears our not sun

outside kind kind of sound

against the grass a by again

again while all these while a

the sun keeps making that

don't recognize . we can't

help don't recognize

recognize . we of people laughing

at we can't help but sort of

harmony against harmony these

acoustic vibrations okay

another more our but try grass

sound against thisthat

thisthat theringly. . where

again the thisthat the hand

ticking by second hand ticking

angles crackling , we breathe

for and the sun we and we. a

bird voices make this the

windchimes and warmer more one

vibrations not ? vibrations more

another hear inside the sounds

we are sounds . we are aware

of not this kind fuzzy

against the grass . we pause

where again the thisthat the

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.

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

twenty four.

thirteen.

twenty eight.

fourteen.

one.

seven.

three.

twenty five.

twenty seven.

thirty.

nine.

two.

sixteen.

twenty one.

four.

twenty six.

eleven.

seventeen.

nineteen.

eighteen.

thirty one.

five.

twenty.

six.

twenty nine.

ten.

fifteen.

twenty three.

eight.

twenty two.

zero.

twelve.