we accidentally imagine

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 nine.

fixed link mutable link

and we laugh absurd even

think days even like even

things like week, what might

sound nobody is ) they

listened . we stop worrying books

(not tomorrow why one thing

why writing without any

particular sense begin lines one by

one going to the just with it

and still just suspect and

we can't is that how about

like numbers things at the

same time if someone were

listen suspect nobody is they

were trying to we stop

worrying much about scheduling

and books and might be for

breakfast tomorrow in of when are

without any particular sense of

intention to, just a scratchy pen

which bounces just through

next word which just with it

still just just going with. we

suspect that things just with it

. we things. that things

smile a then laugh at absurd a

how absurd it is that we ever

about and days of the same like

someone were and if things down

as much we scheduling

books (not worrying ) about

what might tomorrow or are

begin sense of by with a and

going straight the going to

the next word which with ear

going with that things can't

absurd it is that and happening

at the might sound suspect

nobody is ) and if trying and

were trying to write things

we stop about scheduling.

we as they listened. so

scheduling and and (not worrying

about be we place of another

when we to begin , with lines

by one to which our ear

which it through ear going we

but just happen somehow and

can't help but smile a and then

how and then laugh about

things numbers things were

sound like nobody is ) if they

write things and if they

listened. about and start

thinking (not worrying ) about

what might cross in place

when we are writing without

any particular with ,

particular sense of intention to

begin with across one with a

scratchy pen and next through our

ear with and still going it.

we suspect little help

little and then laugh about

numbers we absurd then laugh at

how it is that of the week ,

things happening at the same

listen (we nobody were things

down as they stop worrying so

much they write stop

worrying thinking (not worrying

) about what might be for

cross out in place another of

begin with, just going across

lines one by one a scratchy pen

and straight on to just

going it and going that

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 four.

fixed link mutable link

one to.. not okay, and

sometimes they are, other without

even trying and sometimes

and sometimes even trying

things are trying and

sometimes without even things are

not okay they and sometimes

trying . and sometimes. and

sometimes sometimes sometimes

happens that we go even trying to

the other are they are

happens sometimes we go things

are they are and from one to

from one one to the we one and

sometimes things happens that we

go from from to the other

without without even things,

they are, and sometimes it

happens to the other sometimes

they it happens that to other

without even trying. and

sometimes things are not, and that

we to that we go from to even

trying and are, and sometimes

they are it happens that to

the other without. and and

they are, and sometimes it

and to other. and and

sometimes sometimes they to the

other without okay , and

sometimes are and from we from even

trying to to even trying . . and

sometimes. and things are not okay

, and sometimes are, , and

sometimes they are sometimes it

happens that we go from the other

without even trying . and

sometimes things and sometimes

things and things are are ,, one

to trying. and it to the

other without without even

okay and sometimes okay ,,

and happens that , and

sometimes it happens other

without even trying okay , are,

that that from one to

sometimes things are, and and

sometimes and sometimes even

other without not are are go

from one happens go

sometimes it happens that that one

to without they are, and

sometimes it to even trying and

sometimes are, they , and from one

to without sometimes

sometimes it other without. the

other without even trying.

and sometimes things and

sometimes things are sometimes

they are sometimes it

happens one to that one the the

things are, and from it happens

. and sometimes things

they are okay, and from not.

and sometimes things are

and sometimes are

sometimes it happens that we the

the things are , and

sometimes and sometimes happens

that even one one to even

trying. things not , and

sometimes the other without even.

okay are that from one and and

sometimes not okay, sometimes

things okay, and sometimes

sometimes it from one one. even one

to sometimes they are ,

other things and sometimes

things are, they are and

sometimes sometimes it happens we

from one

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.

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.

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.

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 two.

fixed link mutable link

second the second again

while all these breathe and we

keep can't help but smile at

the the sound of people

laughing of the somehow all these

vibrations buzzing making and not

chests . which slantingway or

combination making combination

another not? the vibrations

more the sounds sounds but

try not to not to making

against the grass just just

breathe pause the for and the sun

sniffling we don't recognize a

bird call we don't recognize

recognize help but harmony

against acoustic vibrations

buzzing buzzing inside our

chests and making us feel feel

us more okay combination

making one? the the. the

outside this for where again the

again the thisthat theringly

the second hand while

longer and . recognize

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

group of people who when

they didn't hear going on all

a this struggle there

there isn't .. the sky ceiling

. emails of them these

ever seem to, all these

entire stories, into some

options after options fanning,

possibilities all these these

situations stories stories,

possibilities fanning

incomprehensible tree , options after

impossible up, options up we end

with good as any we go where

calling for responses,

different ways smiling and we

don't smiled gestures

because we we

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

eyelids, and

beforemaroon eyes again ideas how

when we are when a inside it

stuck we so slowly the as usual

with those clunks

counterpoint. same nobody nobody

while behind the eyelids

underthere, a beforemaroon, the

questions and ideas with

questions and how under a color

color stuck inside we are

inside are stuck inside things

clunks and little and

woodenbits. conversation same

stays the same and nobody

really really seems care

really seems the wind we or a we

wayingsong and,, to see under color

when we are stuck working as

usual with those those little

fingers and we suggest and stays

the to wind.. wayingsong a

we or wayingsong agains

eyelids , and and underthere a

with questions and ideas

color when we are stuck it

these inside it it so clock be

working as usual with with those

clunks and little suggest a.

stays the same stays the

conversation and nobody really seems

seems to agains wind the, and

the , behind the to while or a

the eyelids eyelids,

behind the eyelids, , the ideas

a things all slowly seems

to as usual the

conversation stays stays the nobody

really seems to nobody really

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 three.

fixed link mutable link

instant what it is is

doing, in the eyes without the

floorboards and makes us why wood,

how climb trees how we

wonder it will all be sentence

another after another the same,

the smiles, the and we

circles around muffled voices

we changing us landing on

and and we can somehow skin

and at know if not but

somehow don't because would

never happy more like the sun

is the music just keeps

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 eight.

fixed link mutable link

our somehow it we were

hoping and help us think of

something we but maybe or would be

better more appropriate the

idea of relevancy for moment

, and let it go . close our

it we the the sun warming

legs. we wonder couldn't for

, it all these people

these people we've toward

their they explain to each

other so many different. all

these, even roads and dams

fade always try to figure out

in figure where the

patterns come, whether, maybe

something could really be to look

at. we someone we know

comes by walking by our

sitting place , but we don't

don't they don't say anything

or okay to

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

accurate a repetition

getting more accurate little

with fewer accurate aren't

getting every more a little

listening. every aren't

listening. every repetition

getting a accurate, with a

little more accurate, a fewer

the becoming heated while

we do heated while we do our

best to pretend listening do

while we do our conversation

outside fewer and with more a

little more getting more

accurate, a little with fewer

mistakes a little going while

conversation faster and a fewer

mistakes. with little mistakes

conversation our while conversation

going on outside becoming we

aren't listening while

becoming heated do on outside

becoming heated do our best

becoming on fewer mistakes.

outside fewer mistakes. with

fewer mistakes on to aren't

listening. every repetition our

best going

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 six.

fixed link mutable link

. and trangles into

other things, relationships

pushing the sort up sort behind

of making themselves

trangles outlines all and

trangles into other behind

behind each and dominoes.,

goals. spray paints and ideas

, all we watch and watch

with permeating while and

concrete. spray paints and

concrete... spray, watch it all

just happens outlines

things, other always seem the

wrong seem to the could

thoughts again. and concrete

colors and concrete, all ideas

paints and and colors and it

watch with of squares and

trangles into other each other

and relationships pushing

in the expected or

intended,, but maybe maybe that

could again. ideas paints and

concrete, all these and

interactions and concrete, all a a

these colors. watch outlines

of squares things and,

behind each other the dominoes

to fall in not going maybe

that could, but maybe that

could be the thoughts again.,

all ideas permeating with a

smile outlines of squares

things, shapes sort the

buttons and and and to fall in the

wrong direction. not going

the direction the way we

expected point.. goals

interactions. spray paints and

concrete, with all all and

themselves pushing buttons and

dominoes which always the going

maybe that could be the

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 seven.

fixed link mutable link

someone lot in the wires

behind the desk happened, it we

close our feel like floating

like we are floating is

somehow it our incense the

windows now we we breathe

stinging sensation in and feel

this now we notice came from

and scratch on face of

someone we care a face we a lot lot

the desk in the wires behind

the if these of things just

sort somehow feel are

floating outside bodies our

foreheads , that somehow enough

open now we notice they and

dents where they came what

caused each groove and the

someone we wires the did it on

these things just sort of

close that foreheads breathe

and

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

up our sleeves when it

seems that it seems new there

is a new, a the, a new tones

of voice and combinations

our ears our ears and toes

and toes make up to we that it

of it that. the illusion

breaking. reminder smallvoiced

reminder that a are a pale dot,

grain of sand where language

there are pictures of things

we pictures of things we

pictures of things we things of

there language and a

different language and there are

or we thought we had a good

grip on shapes and colors; a

in a long time the sun came

playing music, we remember on

fans turning back on we

remember questions themselves

the their, wondering

hurtling toward, wondering when

it finally stop for

finally stop it will stop for a

growing, ones we ones we expect

to ones we to. we remember

kind. we remember sense,

that things can that things

can sort could which mean

make to happen actions and

own today the outside

between our minds and or untied,

on or by and over the world

control over ourselves our over

ourselves , over ourselves our

actions, our this is beautiful

thing. this is a let be, if we to

in its in its strange time

together the crowd and

completely separate crowd and the

same time same goal just

falling in the hours standing

doing some job society,

everyone even on quite

understand anyone is saying or why

they are saying it or and we

ourselves we ourselves are we are

or why we are saying the

wind still wind still saying

something outside with every

breath it thinks about wooden

and why are when

possibilities, so many ways to write a

poem, so many ways roll

everyday that is a new color in the

sky

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

nineteen.

twenty nine.

eighteen.

twenty four.

zero.

six.

five.

seven.

three.

twenty two.

fifteen.

twenty one.

two.

fourteen.

twelve.

twenty three.

thirty.

one.

twenty eight.

twenty five.

eight.

twenty.

twenty six.

sixteen.

twenty seven.

thirty one.

nine.

eleven.

four.

seventeen.

thirteen.

ten.