we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seed 2222705

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

twenty one.

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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.

seventeen.

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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.

eleven.

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we keep asking
questions like “will this make me
happy?” when instead it might be
more interesting to ask what
it would sound like if the
leaves on every tree were poems
written on little sheets of
paper and everybody in the
world began to read them out
loud all at the same time and
then the wind began to blow
and the poems went flying in
the air all around and
everybody just watched it happen
in complete silence we
can't help but smile a little,
and then a lot. and someone
hugs the stranger to their
left and we all begin to
laugh. we ask ourselves
another question we can't hear
because of all the wind and
poems, and that's just fine we
realize we didn't want to know
the answers anyway when
there are so many confusing
and beautiful things all
around us anyway. we just keep
laughing and grabbing poems out
of the air, sometimes
deciding to read them and
othertimes using them as napkins.
the wind, the wind is
laughing too.

twenty nine.

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next word which bounces
. we going with it. we a we
ever even think about week,
what at what two someone were
to trying things listened
. about ) about be for
breakfast of particular sense
across lines going word which
going straight on to the next
word which ear just going
still ear just going with it
happen then how absurd that and
days of, like and days might
if listen were trying to
write things down as they
listened. we thinking (not be for
cross in place why we cross
tomorrow why we when we sense of we
with , just one by one with

eight.

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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.

eighteen.

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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.

seven.

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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.

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or to while while behind
and underthere,,
underthere, a a, the a beforemaroon
again with to see under a color
when inside things all
moving moving moving so slowly
and we suggest woodenbits
suggest about. agains we or to
and underthere and ideas
color see under a are stuck
inside it all moving so slowly
clock usual be working as
usual with those clunks usual
clunks and little we suggest
conversation stays the the same seems
seems nobody while and these
things it these inside it
moving things all moving as and
the stays the conversation
. and the conversation
stays the to about the the wind
. about the a we the . the.
or to the eyelids , and
underthere , and underthere, a and
eyelids, and underthere,, to
color under how to see under a
inside things all moving
slowly but the clock seems to be
working as little and to to care
about the wind. the wind we or
behind the eyelids , a the eyes
again with questions see when
under to see are these to clock
and little fingers the
counterpoint counterpoint the same
and the and nobody seems to
really and nobody seems to care
the wayingsong or or to to
while behind,,,, a
beforemaroon, , again with questions
ideas questions and ideas how
to it so slowly seems to be
as usual with clunks
counterpoint we counterpoint the
same seems to nobody really
really seems. agains the
wayingsong a a we or to eyelids, and
and the questions see color
when stuck inside it all
moving so slowly the clock
working as usual clunks clunks
fingers and and woodenbits
counterpoint. the conversation
stays stays the we or behind
the eyes questions eyes
questions ideas are are it so the
clock clock seems the

thirteen.

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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.

thirty one.

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this is a. beautiful
thing this beautiful
beautiful is completely okay
watch the ground same time
together, with somewhere with
the role playing some role
society understand what anyone
is saying or why or and or
and ourselves don't quite
understand what we ourselves are
are saying the with every
breath as and the way the are so
many possibilities many are
there are so many
possibilities, poem or a or explain a
thought or so many, explain a
thought explain a sleeves roll
there in the sky desks our. and
combinations of combinations of
words meaning make up for make
soullessness if that down again, a
smallvoiced reminder that
smallvoiced out of place in place a
names for even a good grip; we
colors; we are not sure if the
not sure if shuffling the
shelves old friend we haven't
seen remember even sun came
back or maybe back back the
sun came back an old cell old
an old, back galaxies
themselves that we are asking
questions of questions of are the
thumpingly against the doors never
things might sense of some kind
. we that, that they that
and taking even mean make
between temperature outside
the temperature actions
and our own actions and the
temperature today, not or off
spoiled food we remember means
having no control over, our
actions and our actions,
actions, and that is this is a we
let watch we to green speck

twelve.

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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.

one.

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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.

three.

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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

zero.

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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.

four.

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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.

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

nine.

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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.

six.

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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 four.

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

twenty six.

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of making things,
shapes sort of the sort of
making themselves other
making other relationships
pushing which relationships
relationships seem. not going the the
or. goals sneaking into
the. spray paints and
interactions again, while we watch
with all just other squares
and trangles trangles into
shapes sort up behind each
other always seem to dominoes
other shapes into other of
each of of behind each other
making each other which fall
fall in the always going,
point. could be be the point.
goals sneaking into the
thoughts could goals sneaking
but maybe expected
expected or or intended, but
maybe that could could again
again. ideas spray
permeating while happens, other
pushing buttons fall in the
wrong direction. way we
expected not going the way way we
but be the point the
thoughts. goals thoughts again
sneaking again. ideas and
interactions. spray. ideas spray,
ideas with ideas permeating
permeating all these colors
concrete colors and ideas
permeating a smile happens, behind
each other relationships
which relationships pushing
buttons and dominoes which
always seem to fall direction.
, but maybe that that
thoughts again. ideas paints and
concrete, spray paints and ideas
watch with a smile. happens,
themselves relationships which
always seem to not the wrong or
intended, but maybe that could
thoughts. the thoughts could
could thoughts again. ideas
and interactions. spray,
watch with a smile. it all of
squares squares and trangles
into other themselves up
behind behind each each other
up sort of making
themselves trangles outlines of
squares things each other other
which always in the wrong
direction. not going the to fall.
not going the wrong or
intended, but maybe that or
intended, but maybe that or maybe
that point or going or going,
could be the expected or
intended that could. the
thoughts interactions. spray
paints and while just trangles
it all just happens smile.
it all just happens
squares and trangles

two.

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

twenty three.

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moves. us, being
absorbed by into pushes us wonder
how and their wonder if turn
out be part a without a these
bricks clinging to rock glue
the opinions and facts into
same and the smiles, the
fists and the, paints and
violins keeps to going around on
themselves the other room and we
can't help but is whole we can
somehow feel it on moment don't
are repeating somehow
don't would never made like
laughing on our arm and our our
skin keeps a keep we around is
object moves us away and makes
resonant how squirrels cars turn
a joke without. these
some rock the the the screams
fists and and violins keep
doing our best not going
around muffled room and we
can't help but notice all sun
glowing and we can somehow feel
it for a anything all know
if things not. that's
perfectly never more sun is
laughing on our arm going trees
around a little instant we are
able to everything around
and object is sort of moves
around these tones us turning
absorbed by the some pushes
wonder why of turn if joke
without a punchline a these,
opinions screams, the

twenty eight.

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comes walking , but we
don't our sitting so they just
that sometimes it's just say
sometimes we ourselves. we don't
know, out walk happens which
. and another thing of
sight . and wonder it's eight
yet isn't now that the the is
behind us , shadow us, that hair
the it into we around when it
we try lead with hand but
all sticks all sticks and we
might us or execution would ,
appropriate. we question the and let
it go and the airplanes and
from this from this just
about anything come from this
prepare us it anyway the sounds
of all these people we've
and conversation,
pointing toward their
destination as they explain each
other how they learned types
of hats. motions , events
going back and back and of
permanent eventually just do
eventually , and things just do just
do what they always were
going what they anyway. come
from , whether we or really be
the leaves to grow

fifteen.

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end saw seems as good as
any looking we left them.
left them. different
different ways and we across a the a
group people who who these a
don't when when of it joke of
joke was funny when they
didn't because going going
once a every single car in
this traffic struggle there
sky sky seeming arriving
and keep arriving and none
of them, all these these
branching out situations
branching out into tree. we up just
going with at least least we
remember where don't left them
all for don't smiled? these
social why because? these who
don't know why they hear half
of it because of joke half
of of it because there so
many many life many things
life, a different, a car jam
behind every note in the piano.
maybe piano. maybe. another
arriving and keep keep arriving
keep arriving be be seem,,
out into entire stories,
into some incomprehensible
tree , end first and and that
at least our instincts but
at least for our, for now at
we go instincts but we
don't remember we left them.
different ways of and and and why
because why social gestures
amplifying across a group of people
who they thought thought
thought the joke didn't hear of
joke funny there on all at
every single car in this
traffic jam, a different in this
a. but there isn't. the
sky

thirty.

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begin with able, and ,
and we wonder what might be
what might what might be over
these years or if nothing ever
really. really changes. we the
idea in return: we ask

twenty five.

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

five.

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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 two.

fixed link mutable link
ears ears ears our of try
to sun outside making
fuzzy kind of kind . we pause
and just breathe for a while
. where, the second and
again angles crackling , we,
breathe for while breathe for a
from from seasonal bird call
we don't recognize but
smile at the can't help this
sort sort windchimes and
against the making feel and
chests and us okay . not warmer
not warmer but another not
the more ? the inside the to
hear of our to . the try to
grass . we pause and a while .
where again the thisthat the
theringly ticking by and and again
the second the

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.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link
is is still glowing we we
lungs we breathe we ask
questions. laughing we forget to
questions how we it funny how how we
laughing! isn't it funny funny
questions ..! we can't but smile
cue back right colors whose
names names we can't lines and
lines remember that glowing
remember that of that the many
lines lines and lines and that
the stick of the and lines.
we that the stick smoke and
we breathe and breathe. we
forget to we forget to ask
questions how we can't funny how we
sun starts coming back
right right on shades these
colors whose names we can't
remember lines and lines we can't
remember lines and names these
colors whose names remember
that the the stick of still
that lines lines and so many
lines lines. we remember. we
remember that the stick of
incense somehow becoming
glowing somehow becoming smoke
in becoming smoke in our
lungs questions. laughing
breathe breathe and! isn't how.
laughing isn't isn't to ask funny
when how isn't how can't help
but smile when the sun
starts starts coming of back
right on the right on cue
shades of these coming right
coming remember these colors
whose names remember that
stick lines of incense is and
smoke smoke our glowing and
somehow becoming smoke in our to
. laughing it funny how we
can't help but smile when
whose names we can't of. and
remember lines lines and lines
and so. we remember the the
stick of incense is remember
still glowing incense stick
of incense is still
glowing and somehow becoming
smoke in our we breathe and we
breathe and we breathe we to ask
questions. isn't funny how can't
help but smile when the sun
starts shades of remember
lines and so many lines is
remember incense is still our
smoke in breathe we breathe
and we breathe and. can't
funny we when the sun starts
can't of these colors whose
names we can't remember
shades names we colors names we
we we can't remember stick
of incense is still
glowing in our lungs we and we
breathe and breathe. we forget
to! isn't it it! it we but
smile right on cue colors
whose can't can't of these
these colors colors of these
colors whose we remember that
so the the becoming
becoming smoke in our breathe in
we breathe and we breathe
and we we breathe. we we we
forget to ask questions.
laughing! isn't it funny how we
when starts starts coming
back right of these colors we
can't lines and names
remember remember the stick
somehow we we breathe and we
smoke in our lungs we breathe
and we breathe we

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 seven.

fixed link mutable link
we close our eyes for a
moment and feel like we are
floating outside our bodies,
that the incense is somehow
in our foreheads, that it
might be warm enough outside
to open the windows now. we
breathe and feel this stinging
sensation in our hands now we
notice small dents in the
floorboard and ask ourselves where
they came from what caused
each groove and scrape along
the wooden panels and walls
of paint every freckle and
scratch on the face of someone we
care a lot about, how each
knot in the wires behind the
desk happened, if someone
did it on purpose of if these
things just sort of happen on
their own somehow.
,