we accidentally imagine

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 five.

fixed link mutable link

and with becoming

heated on outside becoming

heated best to pretend we while

the becoming our pretend

best becoming heated on

outside while mistakes. the

little going while to do

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

the whole and we can our

moment we don't if are

repeating but somehow we that

would never happy or laughing

on our arm is glowing

through keeps going, the and we

keep smiling and able for it

every person and object the

just. away being

floorboards of kinetic which pushes

us why wood is their wheels

if the end turn out a joke

without a without a last

sentence. these another with

some another the screams and

the we keep doing best

notice. circles of while we the

other room we can't changing

every the is landing room

glowing on our skin at. if don't

care never have made us more

human, on our arm our skin and

the going bit and in instant

we us for every, moves

around. us in the floorboards

and transformed into kind

wood is resonant, how

squirrels climb of quickly turn we

end it will be of a without to

one glue, the and fists and

paints and keeps ticking and.

circles themselves while we

hear temperature every

moment, how the this whole and a

moment we all or not somehow

don't care caring about would

never made feel on arm and our

blood wind we keep are able to

us for what it, doing air

just

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.

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.

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.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

right on these these

colors of these whose names we

can't remember lines incense

is still glowing somehow

smoke in our lungs we breathe

breathe smoke in our lungs we

breathe!. we forget to we

breathe breathe. we breathe we

can't smile when the funny

when the cue of these colors

whose names these right on cue

shades of these colors of these

colors names we can't remember

and lines and lines and and

colors whose names we we colors

whose of of colors lines and so

many. we remember still of

incense incense glowing and our

questions. laughing! isn't it

funny questions! isn't it

funny! questions laughing! !

smile cue right on cue shades

of lines lines

twenty four.

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to the other without

even trying things even

trying . and sometimes,

happens that we go from the other

without even sometimes things

and and things are not okay

sometimes sometimes that from one

to the are not, and from one

to from not and one to the

other without even and

sometimes even. not and are,, and

we one. and sometimes

things are not and sometimes it

go things are not that we go

from to the

eleven.

fixed link mutable link

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

they were trying to

write things down they

listened. we stop and books and

worrying so much about

scheduling and books and be one

without any particular

intention with, just going across

lines one by a the next word

which with and that things

just help but smile it ever at

how absurd it is we even

about things is that we ever

even about things and days

week two time if ) if they were

listened. down as about be or we

when we without any

particular sense of intention to

begin with, just going lines,

just going begin with ,

particular sense of intention to

begin going across lines

scratchy pen straight on with

scratchy going straight on to the

next word which through our

going with still just. that

things just and can't laugh

like numbers and days of at

the time if is they were

trying to stop (not about be for

breakfast tomorrow might for

breakfast of another when we are

writing without lines on to with

somehow and we can't help but

smile we then laugh at it is

that and of week, two things

might two things happening at

the same time might sound

like is write things down as

they we worrying tomorrow or

why we when we are writing

sense intention to , just

going across lines one by one

with bounces through just

going with just with it with it

and still just going happen

somehow and then laugh absurd is

that we ever think about

things like and days of the week

, two things happening at

the if listen were as they.

we worrying listened.

down they listened and start

tomorrow or why what might cross

one thing out of another out

place another when we are

going of intention any of

another any particular to , just

one a and going straight on

to the next word which with

. we smile little absurd

about like numbers and what

two at what two at like if

someone listen (we ) they

listened. worrying so ) what

might be breakfast in

intention going across lines one

with word which bounces

through our just going just

going with it and still happen

we suspect help smile

absurd it is that we ever about

and what two things days

week

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 six.

fixed link mutable link

outlines trangles into

other things, shapes the the

geometries behind each other

relationships pushing buttons and

dominoes to fall. not but maybe

expected point the thoughts

goals ideas these colors and

concrete,, all these these

colors smile colors

interactions colors while these

these watch with a smile. it

all and things, shapes sort

geometries behind buttons and to

fall relationships pushing

buttons and dominoes which

always seem to the way intended

goals thoughts again. into

interactions interactions . spray

paints and while just just

happens and themselves pushing

buttons the wrong direction

expected or intended could be

goals sneaking spray paints

and and, all these colors

and ideas watch with a

squares and outlines outlines

of squares and trangles

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.

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.

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

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

branching out people

situations branching to ever seem

to be from situations

branching possibilities stories

, possibilities options

to weigh. just seems seems

as going with one one we saw

good as now our for now at

least go we don't them calling

for different responses

these. responses, and

smiling we are one amplifying a

who know why they across

gestures amplifying a they the a

group know why joke don't know

they thought the joke was

funny when don't know why

don't these first us smiled?

the joke was funny when were

going on every every struggle

behind there was every in

thirteen.

fixed link mutable link

we wait for a few minutes

and wonder if it would be

okay for us to ask now: "is

this beautiful?" we wonder

if nobody noticed and we

watch the air just sort of move

around through the leaves. we

take another breath with the

sunlight and feel warmer.

throughs and arounds

behindingly the now nowing while

again the time continues and

stops and continues again.

circles of ink we close our eyes.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

we in our small from

ourselves floorboard and dents

they scrape along and and

scratch we care about , how knot

in the if sort sort of these

things just . eyes for a , are

floating our that our bodies

incense is that it open now

sensation in in this stinging

stinging sensation our hands

stinging hands notice

floorboard and from what each

groove where groove groove

along caused from what caused

each groove groove and

scrape scrape along the and

scrape along the wooden panels

paint freckle a lot how each

wires behind knot wires the

desk these . eyes for we that

windows now hands the

floorboard notice ask ask what

caused from along wooden

panels and and scratch on

someone we how desk desk it

happen these things on purpose

of just happen for a bodies

the, the and feel this

stinging stinging sensation

sensation now we notice small

small in the floorboard the

wooden of paint every freckle

and someone we care each

knot in behind purpose of

happen on their own somehow our

outside, that the outside we we

are floating outside we

outside our is somehow , outside

hands stinging sensation in

now notice small dents in

floorboard and ask what where along

the each groove and walls of

paint care the face face we

care each lot each wires on

purpose did it on on purpose of if

their for a moment and are

bodies, that the, that it might

. we we feel this stinging

dents in the floorboard

floorboard each wooden scratch on

face of on the face of, how

each knot , if someone if

these sort of eyes for a moment

outside bodies, foreheads warm

enough outside to and feel now

we breathe and and notice

ask ourselves the we

floorboard and ask where and ask the

what caused each groove and

scrape every freckle scratch

on how each knot lot about

desk happened, if it on on on

purpose purpose of these just

happen on their own happen a

moment we somehow in our

foreheads, that it might be we feel

this small floorboard and

where they came paint and

walls of paint freckle

freckle freckle and scratch

scratch paint face face someone

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

place when like it place

seems like every minute or

second comes to our to ears, so

much, so can't we or how we are

laugh,, and we be over these

years the reject the reject

the idea nothing ever

really changes. we changes we

the if ever changes reject

the idea that an unexpected

question in return question to

don't. and then to begin to we

don't know. and then to cry we

begin why the aimless in the

first place it place when it

comes to our so, question

comes to our ears which is so

which is so, like important

can't of the moment or how we we

laugh laugh, and we. we what

might be next, actually

changed over these years. we

reject idea nothing really we

unexpected ourselves an

unexpected return and ?” know.

don't then we and. and then we

begin. and then we begin can't

laugh. can't we see and we, cry

laugh, and are so questions

when seems to our ears which

why of a good able read laugh

. we wonder what next, if.

we changes. we reject idea

that an unexpected question

in unable we are unable are

we are unable to then we

laugh laugh see the place

seems like every second

minute or second a new so why to

begin with at the moment or how

we to, and we laugh, and be

and anything changed over

these years or reject the idea

nothing “who are ourselves “who

and we are unable to answer

we don't and then we. why we

it seems

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

be clunks clunks clunks

with those a stays the the the

nobody really really seems to

care wind wayingsong.

agains the or to while behind,

and underthere eyelids

while behind eyelids , with

questions ideas how inside it all

moving little we a

counterpoint. a and and the

conversation really seems to the. the

a the wayingsong

wayingsong we or to to we or to while

behind and underthere, the

eyes color stuck when under

we color stuck inside it

these things all these things

all working as to be working

as clunks and little and

nobody seems to agains the

wayingsong a the wayingsong we or to

and a beforemaroon

beforemaroon the eyes questions

questions and ideas see under when

we so usual with those

woodenbits a counterpoint the

really and nobody the

wayingsong or a eyes with questions

and ideas see are stuck

these moving so the clock

usual with those and and

little clunks fingers the

conversation stays seems to care care

about the wind. the

wayingsong and underthere a

beforemaroon beforemaroon, the

ideas to we we are stuck inside

it these things all moving

things the the the we we the the

same or behind the questions

and ideas under under under

a color when a when we

inside it these things slowly

the as usual be working as

usual clunks and with and

conversation stays the same stays the

same and nobody care about

the wind. the a or to while or

eight.

fixed link mutable link

we accidentally

imagine ourselves as having for

a head this strangely

shaped box or a bird feeder with

a triangular roof or

something similar and we are

sitting in the front passenger

seat of an old car and someone

we care a lot about asks,

who are you? and we

think for a minute, and then

another. we aren't able to answer

with anything except a held

hand, and we somehow find

ourselves caring more about them

just because they asked.

they can't answer either,

and the grip gets tighter

and they aren't making eye

contact but that's okay because

we aren't looking anyway

and we are both these

strange wooden boxes attached

to bodies, heads without

eyes which still say so much,

eyes without laughinglines

which always find new things

to smile about an itch

behind our ears, the way this

piece of paper falls on the

ground, the sound of an overhead

lamp switching on laughing

about nothing in particular

and everything in

particular, wanting to want

everything and wanting to want

nothing, to feel everything and

to feel nothing, or at

least something the grip

getting tighter and we remember

how okay it is, how

beautiful it is and how funny it is

that poetry and music might

be the same thing after

all, that hiding is okay

sometimes and being naked is okay

too, that sometimes things

lead to other things, and

sometimes they don't, and

sometimes things just happen and

they keep just happening and

they don't stop. they don't

stop and it seems like they

never will, so it starts

making sense to just accept

this and close our eyes and

smile a little but somehow

this feels impossible. we

get frustrated and start to

do things we don't want to

do, blaming other people

for things nobody had

control over in the first place

and jumping to conclusions

and making assumptions

about other people and their

intentions and what they want or

what they are afraid of. we

forget that they are us, that

their grip is getting tighter

and that nothing is okay for

them either. we remember

that their boxy head is

crying and we have been trying

not to notice. we remember

that we are all the same

person born into different

bodies, and that this is a

beautiful thing. this is a

beautiful thing.

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

which slantingway or

combination making one thing work

and another not? the

vibrations more quiet every time we

lean our ears closer trying

to hear inside the sounds.

we are aware of our actions

but try not to notice. the

sun outside making this

fuzzy kind of sound against

the grass. we pause and just

breathe for a while. where again

the thisthat theringly,

the second hand ticking by

again and again while all

these angles crackling, we

breathe for a while longer and

the sun keeps making that

sound and we keep sniffling

from seasonal allergies. a

bird call we don't

recognize. we can't help but smile

at the sound of people

laughing and somehow the voices

make this sort of harmony

against the windchimes and we

hear all these acoustic

vibrations buzzing inside our

chests and making us feel not

warmer but more okay. more

okay.

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

front of us . strange our

hair looks when the into we

try smear lead with our it so

legible were hoping that the

smudges might a word or two and us

think of think or two and two

wouldn't have or execution

better question we idea of a

listen and this anything

wonder could or couldn't and if

it would listen to never

met laughter and laughter

laughter and laughter and

conversation , pointing toward their

to each other the place so

many of hats. all these

little motions, events forth

without leaving any mark even

and dams and enormous

statues collapse eventually ,

and, and they do to do try

figure out figure out where

made all if maybe really that

maybe some need way that these

grid patterns come up below.

by our so they don't. or

quietly understood okay to just

, to just that sometimes

it's okay, that sometimes we

they sight. and of out of

sight . doesn't matter

another , glance at matter

glance if wonder we and wonder

if yet and it isn't now

shadow us behind and that front

of us. we notice wind moves

different try to and lead to to so

legible were hoping were might

make hoping that the smudges

we that us note or think we

otherwise, but , or execution more

idea a for a for a moment it go.

to the airplanes and feel

the sun warming our we

wonder what come from this

really could or for it, and if

anyway listen to the sounds of

sounds of people explain each

learned the place. so hats all

these motions , events going

back forth sort of and dams

they to figure the patterns

in a of leaves all up all up

or if maybe maybe the

leaves decided or felt to grow

in such patterns come we by

but we up so they so they

looking away quietly

understood just be ourselves sight

. they walk out sight. and

notice that that our shadow is

in front we strange us

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

or we on a had a grip on not

sure if the feet librarian or

a librarian a or an old

friend or an friend long time

whose we sun came back came

back or back the laughed

until came or maybe the sound

is sound fans galaxies

remember that galaxies

themselves asking questions they

when it will finally against

the, the momentnow

changing leading, shapes

growing, never leading to ones

we expect we ones to make

sense of that sense have to

have to make, that they

consistency is consistency we that

taking mean away could even

mean allowing mean to happen

sense make sense to between

our temperature today, not

so much difference

between much difference off or

off bacteria and eaten

remember we that having also

means having no control

ourselves, our and this and that

thing. this is a beautiful

this. thing

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.

twenty.

fixed link mutable link

the smell of damp sticks

from outside. a slowmoving

sound. we notice how

everything is so pink maybe we

remember why, but for now we

don't. “can it stay like this

for a while?” and, for once,

it does.

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.

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.

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.

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.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

eighteen.

twenty five.

twenty three.

four.

twelve.

seventeen.

sixteen.

twenty four.

eleven.

two.

twenty nine.

one.

twenty six.

five.

seven.

twenty one.

three.

fifteen.

thirteen.

twenty seven.

thirty.

fourteen.

eight.

twenty two.

twenty eight.

thirty one.

zero.

twenty.

ten.

nine.

nineteen.

six.