it is 2021. we wonder what to say next, and the wind is still blowing.

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.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

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.

twenty.

fixed link mutable link

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

eleven.

fixed link mutable link

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. 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
,