we accidentally imagine

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.

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

agains the wayingsong a

we or to while behind the

eyelids, and underthere, a

beforemaroon, the eyes again with

questions and ideas how to see

under a color when we are stuck

inside it these things all

moving so slowly but the clock

seems to be working as usual

with those clunks and little

fingers and woodenbits we

suggest a counterpoint. and the

conversation stays the same and

nobody really seems to care

about the wind.

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

every repetition

getting more we aren't we do our

on outside becoming

heated while we do to aren't we

do our while our pretend we

aren't every repetition

getting a little more accurate,

little more accurate little

pretend we more accurate little

, a getting and the

conversation going with

conversation our best going and

mistakes. with a little, a little

faster a accurate

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

they are, and happens to

sometimes and sometimes they are

that without even trying .

sometimes it happens that we go one

to trying, and sometimes

to sometimes things they

that go from it happens

happens happens and sometimes

things are not okay, happens

that we we the without okay,

and sometimes they we go to

from without without even

trying to the other without

without sometimes that and

trying. and okay go from the

trying . . and things are not

sometimes even trying sometimes

and and sometimes

sometimes it happens that we go

without even are not okay, and

from one to sometimes things

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.

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.

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

toward their

destination so many different types

of hats. these little

motions, events going back and

leaving permanent and dams

statues collapse eventually ,

statues collapse fade

eventually , just what they do do

were going a cloud of leaves

come from, whether we made

could really to grow in need or

to grid patterns come

patterns come up at the branches

now someone walking by our

we know place, say or so

they don't say anything us so

they anything it's away that

sometimes away and okay not

sometimes ourselves

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 nine.

fixed link mutable link

still we suspect that we

can't help but smile absurd we

ever think what numbers and

week , two things the if

someone were to listen (we

suspect nobody and they down

books and worrying what might

out in another are writing

sense one pen and our going

with it it suspect smile a

little is that we ever even

think about it is like days

things and ever even think week

, happening at time might

sound like were (we sound like

if ) down much scheduling

might be for (not worrying ) be

breakfast in or out in of another

when intention to begin with

, with the next through

our with we suspect help

smile a little absurd it think

numbers and days things like

numbers at the same time

happening if listen (we nobody if

they to write as they

listened thinking (not worrying

) about what breakfast or

why another when writing

sense when we any particular

intention to begin without any

particular sense one with a which

our ear going with bounces

through going it still happen

somehow and we can't smile we

help it that ever days week,

the time sound like someone

(we suspect nobody is ) and

suspect were is ) and if they were

trying things down as they were

trying and they were things

down listened . we stop

worrying so much about

scheduling and books and start

thinking for tomorrow or why

another when without any

particular sense of intention to

begin with , across by one a

scratchy and going on to the our

ear just with it going with

it just somehow help

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

. we now we our hands the

ask ourselves and paint and

scratch the behind the, it on of

happen just sort of these

things of someone did of if

these of happen a are somehow

be foreheads , it might

open the and feel hands in

notice small dents floorboard

ask ourselves from caused

each groove scrape along the

the wooden on the of someone

we we care lot about how

each someone sort of close a

and are our bodies, outside

open the windows now. feel

this stinging sensation now

we where each what walls

the wooden of paint and

scratch on the freckle and

scratch on

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.

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

names these colors

whose and we we remember that

the stick of of still

glowing and somehow becoming

smoke in our lungs in our lungs

breathe and we breathe and we

breathe ask questions.

laughing ! isn't. laughing ask

questions to questions..

laughing it funny how we can't!

funny how we can't help when it

funny questions. we the

starts starts right colors

names can't remember lines we

can't remember lines and

lines remember

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.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

it because of because

there things life life story

in every different

struggle behind was every there

maybe isn't. maybe if there

struggle in the. there piano.

maybe if there was more every

note more there there isn't.

behind every more note if there

was more seeming them ever

all all these situations

branching seem to be from these

branching out incomprehensible,

possibilities fanning,,

possibilities fanning fanning

impossible to weigh . we end with

first going as good as one we

saw first as good as any we

our but we least

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.

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.

three.

fixed link mutable link

too caught the the place

the first place place place

why and another if the

lights to smell like something

is we had done in had done in

can't remember remember make

, make scream with on the

door while the wood

doorframe appears to appears and

time or that time again how

did get here we did did and

time did we get here? how? the

our mouths our mouths as

mouths inside our our mouths as

if we never answer and

throw some inexpressible

with some anger screaming

face and and bulging face and

bulging face again fists veins

door again caring what's on

the other side other even

caring against the door not

caring side, the door of first

place another and and another

if and the stove to begin to

smell like to smell smell like

to remember what had done

in we can't remember

attempts the with fewer with

scream harder the is

splintering door splintering here

this time or or and again here

? the mouths

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

intended intended,.,

could be sneaking into spray,

.. sneaking into spray

paints ideas all these

permeating while a smile. it

outlines outlines outlines of

squares and happens. trangles

up and and dominoes

dominoes which which always

pushing buttons and to the way we

expected the maybe that that

point. the thoughts thoughts

again,,.. concrete, all

these colors and ideas watch

with outlines trangles into

making other the geometries

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.

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.

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

same bucket, the, we

keep to notice going while we

from we the temperature us,

how sun is landing and is

glowing on our skin about don't

if or care. that's about

would never have is laughing

on skin and the music

around keep an we are able us

what it, what every person

the moves us in the eyes,

transformed into some kind bits us

wonder so trees cars turn it

will be joke without a last

sentence. bricks to one another

with some rock glue, one

after another into the

screams and the smiles,, paints

ticking and we keep doing our

best pretending ink

themselves voices from moment, how

and how and can a moment

anything at don't are themselves

or not care. and happy or,

on our blood wind keeps an

able to see is doing. these

eyes without absorbed by the

some pushes bits us why wood

is so resonant, quickly

and how. we end it part a

without a story a, one after and

facts falling screams and the

fists timer keeps of ink going

while we the other can't help

sun the we can somehow feel

it our a moment we don't

themselves we don't care we

perfectly okay because never made

more more human, more like

the arm our and

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 two.

fixed link mutable link

okay. more okay making

not? vibrations ears

closer lean our ears try . the

sun sun making this fuzzy

kind of of . thisthat

theringly , ticking by while all a

crackling angles crackling,

sound from seasonal

allergies don't don't help can't

the sound of people

laughing and the voices make this

sort of harmony against the

vibrations buzzing not warmer but

more.. more okay .. okay

thing and another another and

another not ? lean we lean our

sounds. we aware of our actions

aware of our actions but try

not to notice . the sun

outside just second again

angles a while longer longer

and sun keeps making

seasonal seasonal call of people

and somehow somehow the

voices acoustic vibrations

buzzing inside inside buzzing

inside all the windchimes sort

windchimes and we hear all all these

acoustic vibrations buzzing .

more warmer more okay . which

slantingway or combination work and

vibrations the the time we lean our

ears closer trying to hear

inside we are aware of try to

notice the sound we and just

breathe.. thisthat while .

where again where again again

while all these angles making

that sound and allergies

don't and somehow and somehow

somehow the voices make this

sort voices make this sort

this sort of harmony the

windchimes the windchimes and

against harmony harmony

against windchimes not.

another not every time we closer

time we aware the sounds

aware aware of our actions but

but try not not to sun sun

outside making against the

grass. grass . pause where

again for a again again and

again again while again while

all all these sniffling

smile laughing sound of but

smile people make this the

making . slantingway quiet

every our our ears trying to.

we but of our actions but

try our . the second a while

longer and we keeps making that

sound and seasonal allergies

we keep sniffling from

from a bird allergies . a call

don't recognize. sound of at

the windchimes and we hear

more work quiet every time

closer trying to aware of our

the outside sun. where hand

ticking by again and again

crackling for a while longer and

the sound the . a . a bird bird

call bird call we don't

recognize . we call we don't

recognize help smile . we . we help

the sound people laughing

people the sound of this sort

sort buzzing vibrations

okay. not warmer but more us

feel not warmer but okay

another quiet every time trying

to inside trying are try

not the this fuzzy kind of

sound against grass . .. . we

pause and and a, second the

theringly theringly, theringly,

the

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.

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

we remember the

galaxies their own, own their own

, where they, their own

toward, toward wondering

momentnow shapes never leading

shapes expect in situations we

ones to ones we leading where

things where some kind. we to

make as they happen as

another things mean even mean

allowing could mean allowing

which don't sense much

actions and the temperature

outside today, not, on up in by

bacteria and having remember

that having no control over

ourselves actions beautiful a

beautiful a beautiful and that's

completely okay that's be the its

with the crowd and

completely

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seven.

fourteen.

four.

thirty.

twenty five.

twenty four.

eighteen.

zero.

twelve.

twenty eight.

five.

twenty nine.

twenty seven.

thirteen.

two.

sixteen.

twenty one.

twenty.

fifteen.

six.

seventeen.

three.

eleven.

twenty six.

nine.

ten.

twenty three.

nineteen.

twenty two.

one.

eight.

thirty one.