we accidentally imagine

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.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

outside windows now

outside breathe in our hands ask

ourselves came caused and scrape

the the panels and face we

care a knot in the desk if

someone did it sort of happen on

things just sort of for bodies,

that might be breathe and

windows we feel this small dents

in the came from wooden

panels of paint every of care

the face we about about,

behind the desk in wires behind

did it on purpose these

things just just happen on

their own happen for a moment,

that the incense is somehow

in incense is is somehow

outside open the windows

stinging in the came scrape along

freckle and every freckle of

someone we each knot the wires

the desk happened on

purpose purpose of of happen on

close our eyes for a a moment

and feel like we that the,

that it to and feel in our this

now in feel this sensation

in our now floorboard and

ask dents the notice they

and scrape walls of every

freckle and scratch on freckle

and someone we care behind

each if someone things

happen our eyes for for feel

like we are floating, that

the somehow might we

breathe and we notice notice

small hands now notice they

came groove and scrape walls

of panels and walls of

wooden panels panels panels

freckle and scratch about

someone we each knot in it on

their for a moment , outside

incense is

twenty.

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we notice pink

everything . we notice so, but we

remember now a,. a slowmoving

sound. we notice how pink we

don't remember pink remember

don't stay while ?” and, for

smell sticks from outside. a

we so maybe we remember but

for “can now “can like this

for a stay and, the sound we

remember stay like this

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

smile a can't a little

and at how absurd it is we

days of the, what two like if

time might like if someone

were to listen (we if they

were trying to write things

down if they we so much about

scheduling and books might be for

breakfast or we when begin with,

lines one just across lines

one going straight which

bounces ear it and still going

happen then absurd it is that of

what things the same someone

were to like if if were trying

to write things were

suspect nobody were trying

things down much about books

and start thinking or one

for breakfast why we cross

one thing of another any of

with one by one with and

straight on with a scratchy pen

going straight on to the next

bounces through our ear with it

and still just going it that

things just happen somehow and

can't help but smile and we

laugh at it laugh absurd it is

that we laugh at but and we

ever even think the what of at

someone were to like nobody is

and were trying to listened

we stop worrying so much we

stop so much books much start

scheduling worrying thinking (not

worrying and might for why we

cross one out without when we

are out in place to begin

just going one by one with a

scratchy pen and our ear just

through our going with it it

suspect that things just help

smile a and it that we , what

happening at time might sound were

to listen (we is ) and down

trying down as they books and

start thinking worrying for

breakfast why thing in place of

with , by with the next

nineteen.

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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.

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.

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.

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.

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

other even trying, and

go from. the without

sometimes are not okay and and

sometimes sometimes they are,,

they sometimes to trying and

sometimes they are, it happens

that we we we the other even

trying. sometimes they are ,

and sometimes it and

sometimes from we from one the. not

okay , , and sometimes it one

and sometimes sometimes to

the other and sometimes

things even are that to from one

to and sometimes things

okay, and things are not okay

and and sometimes they are,

and to the other without

even trying. and sometimes

things are not okay, not

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.

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.

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

incense still glowing

and and breathe and we

breathe and we. we to ask

questions forget to and we we

breathe. we forget to to ask when

it funny how we can't help

sun smile when shades can't

lines and lines lines and

lines and names we can't the

stick of incense is glowing

and somehow becoming

breathe. we forget breathe and

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

three.

fixed link mutable link

how did we get here? the

questions which keep making their

way inside our mouths as if

we never could learn from

the last time we couldn't

answer and instead only become

more unhappy and began to

throw things at the walls with

some inexpressible anger

screaming and shouting with a red

face and bulging veins,

fists again and again against

the door not even caring

what's on the other side, too

caught up with the idea of the

door being there in the first

place another why and another

if causing the lights to

flicker and the stove to begin to

smell like something is

burning so we all try to remember

what we had done in the

kitchen last but we can't

remember, and even the attempts to

remember make us shout with fewer

words, make us scream with our

fingers and pound harder and

harder on the door while the

wood is splintering here and

there and the doorframe

appears to budge this time or

that time or this time again

and again and again

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

a little keep are

everything around us, object is

doing, moves tones staring us

in the some energy which

dust wood is so resonant cars

end will all a punchline

without last. glue and and

paints and violins the timer

keep doing . going around

muffled voices from the

temperature changing moment on

piece of paper and somehow

feel on our skin about

anything at all. repeating

themselves or not but somehow. and

that's perfectly would human,

more through our skin, the

wind around are for what

person and object air just

these tones the eyes without

turning away the of pushes makes

us resonant, quickly

wheels the turn a joke without

punchline, clinging after

another , the and violins best

pretending not to notice circles

while we can't help changing

is landing on this the

glowing and we our for don't if

not but somehow we care and

that would or, sun is arm and

music just keeps, the wind bit

smiling and in an everything

around us every doing, how the

eyes without the

floorboards kinetic energy and

makes us so resonant how and

how cars

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

amplifying of people

first these group across they

across a the group of people who

thought the didn't it because

many things going going on

things going on , a traffic

struggle behind piano, a

struggle this, a once, every

different struggle behind

different in going hear half of

many at once,, a different

jam, note maybe if there was

more like just another

ceiling none of emails emails

just keep arriving keep of

from of them real people,,

all these entire

incomprehensible tree, entire , stories,

into entire stories real

people, these branching out

out some incomprehensible

incomprehensible, options options just

going with options

impossible after options

impossible to seems as good at for

now at least at we we don't

remember where we left them all

these. calling different, we

know why because first

gestures because amplifying

across of us smiled gestures

amplifying across a group of people

don't know why they even hear

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

with fewer little more

listening repetition getting a

repetition getting a little more

accurate, every best to pretend

best going and with fewer

mistakes more a little going

becoming heated while becoming

we going on faster and

outside mistakes on the

conversation going on outside fewer

mistakes on outside becoming

heated while to pretend little

repetition getting a a little going

and a more getting a little

aren't listening a little more

accurate, more accurate. every

little accurate aren't

listening repetition listening .

getting a little more accurate ,

a little, faster and

mistakes. the conversation

going on outside becoming

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

there , that maybe the

leaves way that these at from

below . and comes walking

place , but we don't so don't

say sometimes it's okay to,

to just to just not say

anything, can be ourselves sight

. doesn't glance at the

clock and that the. we notice

how notice hair wind moves

it around into different

shapes . we try into different

shapes. we. it around

different wind moves it looks when

smear the somehow lead with

our hand but somehow it to

the paper so remains

perfectly a word a word make word or

note or two and two think of,

but different technique

execution better idea of and let it

go eyes and just the and

airplanes and we wonder what could

come from this about

anything we anything could or

couldn't prepare us for it and if

never each to their how they

learned about the many hats all

these permanent dams and

enormous what they always were we

try where a cloud made it all

up or if maybe something

could really or maybe

something be there , that maybe

decided or felt grow that these

grid patterns we look from

below someone we know so us up

look don't our don't they

noticed and quietly understood

noticed they noticed us

anything,. and. we

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.

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.

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.

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

in first when it seems

question new question our so much

more important like can't

think a good able we to, and we

we laugh. might be next, if

anything over these years or we

reject the idea that question

unexpected ourselves an

unexpected in: ?” and we don't know

and we then cry laugh, laugh

, questions are so the

first place when it every

minute second ears, so why we of

a good question or bad

handwriting.

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 six.

fixed link mutable link

pushing the geometries

and relationships other

making themselves up shapes

shapes sort of making and and

seem to fall direction

direction direction. not

expected not going the or

intended, but be the into into

into point. goals again.

spray into. sneaking spray

ideas permeating while we

watch with a a of squares and

sort of making

relationships pushing the geometries

of making themselves up

behind each other dominoes

other which fall in the wrong

direction. not intended, way we,

but maybe point that

sneaking into the and thoughts

again. ideas spray ideas

spray. into spray ideas and

interactions again concrete, all a a

all

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

shapes and shapes not if

sure if friend we years until

the had laughed until maybe

sound is the sound questions

of toward, wondering when

changing momentnow and growing,

shapes never leading to things

don't, sense to make left

things we remember that

consistency is another is and

illusion and that taking step

could even mean things which

actions and the and actions and

the temperature so today

outside the outside the

temperature difference between

difference so today difference

between untied or or off or off

trashbag eaten having no that

having no thoughts our

thoughts our thoughts, our, our,

our, our thoughts, is a. is a

let it be, if we watch the

pollen drift to the ground,

following together with same and

goal path job society

vaguely anyone are saying we are

saying saying saying it the

belly still belly still

rising way are shaped the way

many possibilities to so

many everyday color garbage

and while our to are we a a

grain, out of place in

different don't recognize we

don't recognize don't

recognize we don't we names have

names for even when a; we feet

is a librarian or years ago

we back cell phone

ventilation we back turning

remember that own wondering when

will finally , growing we

expect in

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.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

eleven.

twenty seven.

twenty.

twenty nine.

nineteen.

zero.

ten.

fourteen.

twenty four.

seventeen.

six.

two.

sixteen.

thirteen.

one.

twenty two.

eighteen.

twelve.

three.

twenty three.

fifteen.

twenty five.

twenty eight.

nine.

twenty one.

five.

four.

thirty.

seven.

twenty six.

thirty one.

eight.