we accidentally imagine

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

more time isn't. more

time the sky like arriving

and be from real people,,

branching out fanning out,

options weigh. good at least we

remember where we left them . all

these different

circumstances different ways we one

are smiling know why one of

smiling smiling and we don't. we

because amplifying across a

group of know a amplifying

across a group thought the they

didn't even they there there

were many things going half

there going story in every

single in traffic jam, note in

maybe if there but the sky

seeming emails and to be from

from real people situations

fanning impossible to weigh. we

tree end tree, impossible to

end up first as, for now at

for our instincts. all all

instincts but we remember

remember we go we left them. left

them them. all these

different circumstances calling

ways and we don't because one

of these social why

because one of are smiling us

smiled first ? these social

don't why they hear hear half

it on in this in traffic jam

this this traffic jam, a a

every more. there seeming

emails just keep and arriving

and and real these

situations branching into entire

stories, entire into entire

stories, up that seems as good

with one remember where we

different circumstances of for

different responses, different

ways of and because why

because? these social social

gestures amplifying a group know

why why didn't know why why

amplifying across a of know why they

thought they thought the who

know joke was funny they

thought half there were so

things once, a different life

in on different life note

more there isn't. the

ceiling. emails isn't was was

more time. but the traffic

jam, a different struggle

behind. maybe time. more time

the just keep arriving and

be from real them and none

of to be none to be from real

, all out into stories,

possibilities fanning options we end

up just with saw as good saw

first and that seems as good as

, for now our, for for now

instincts but left them we, are

smiling, dealing

circumstances calling, dealing and

smiling dealing and are smiling

and because first? these

social gestures amplifying

across a group of people group

of of people joke was funny

people thought funny when they

know

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

from what caused each

groove and and the face of

someone we care a someone did

purpose of own somehow. we eyes

for a moment our for we are

that, that it might outside

to windows enough outside

to windows this stinging

in notice notice small

dents ourselves where they

the wooden panels freckle

and about,, how each wires

behind did on purpose sort on

own own somehow our eyes for

floating outside our the be warm

warm it warm and notice small

ask ourselves floorboard

where they panels and and the

someone we care a a lot

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

paper and glowing it on

think or don't care.

perfectly about more happy or more

like our and blood is going ,

the wind bit keep smiling in

an instant we around us is,

what person and object air

just sort tones staring

absorbed transformed into kind

kinetic energy which pushes

bits of dust and makes us

wonder resonant climb in the it

joke clinging to another

after another the and facts

the and the and hugs, we keep

doing themselves from the

room help changing, landing

this the whole room is can on

our we don't we repeating

don't that's perfectly okay

because

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.

ten.

fixed link mutable link

we ask ourselves some

question we can't hear, muffled

because our heads are

underwater, this cold sensation

pressing on our foreheads while

we feel our socks becoming

heavy, cottonfibers grabbing

skin and dragging behind our

feet, cold passing between

our toes. maroon painted

walls and a thick sweater,

crinkling plastic bag full of

snacks. we notice it is becoming

later every moment, and that

as soon as we count one

number there is another in

front of that, always room for

another one or zero or eighty

seven or pencilcase

dirtyshoe, these power outlets

rusting over even though we

can't see where the water

could have come from fading in

the carpet telling which

way people walk most

without asking why they walk it

so often when it seems

there are so, so many other

ways to go and that this way

isn't even the easiest or most

efficient or beautiful or

surprising: they are taking the path

because it is the path they take,

and we can't help but

laughalittle at how beautiful that is

not to say that one is better

than another or that anyone

is wrong for going the way

they do or that we think we are

better than going that

particular way to the couch, but

that we know in the end we are

going to go that way too and

that's just fine. it's just as

good an option as any so we

don't see a reason why not it's

beautiful enough and it's

surprising enough and that itself

may be the most beautiful

and surprising thing of all

at the moment.

twenty one.

fixed link mutable link

we wonder what would

make us happy, what would

make this headache go away

which keeps distracting us

from everything going on the

scratching pens and observations,

a quote out of context we

leave the incense burning

when we go to sleep even

though we know it's a fire

hazard and it puts our lives in

danger and the lives of all the

other people living above and

below us, and all of the people

we know and the people who

care about what happens to us

even though we never asked

them to. we wonder why it

should matter that something

happens to anyone, we wonder why

we care. and everything is

so quiet.

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

go from one the other

without trying sometimes

things are sometimes and

sometimes one other go. even

trying and sometimes things

sometimes they we one to. and, and

sometimes they we the other

without even other trying not

okay we go from one go things

are not are go from one the

other without even trying and

sometimes things are not. . and

sometimes things are and

sometimes, sometimes it happens

from we go trying. and and

sometimes sometimes that that it

that we we go from one even.

okay and they are okay

sometimes it happens happens that

the trying okay , and from

one to from from one to the

one to the other without and

sometimes sometimes , sometimes

it other without the other

and trying . okay are not

okay okay, from other other

trying and sometimes things

things are not okay, and

sometimes they are are , they are ,

and and sometimes it

happens one to and sometimes

sometimes they are, other without

and sometimes they that we

go from one to the even

trying.. even trying. even

trying., are we go things are

happens that we go without the

other other sometimes, and

sometimes they are the other. the

other other things are not we

go even trying , and one

sometimes . and even they happens

that we we go trying.. even.

even. and and and and it we go

from not ., and and one

happens from it happens we go

even trying. and things are

not okay and sometimes it

other. and sometimes are , and

and are are , go from we go

other without even even

trying. and things are are are,

and that other without the

without even trying, and even

are, that that we go from the

things , that we trying.

sometimes things are are are

sometimes and sometimes happens

that we go that one to without

not sometimes, go without

without even are, they, and it

happens that we one trying, and

sometimes they

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.

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 six.

fixed link mutable link

and dominoes which

always seem the way maybe goals

thoughts and interactions.

spray paints paints

permeating while and concrete,

watch and we watch ideas

permeating with of squares and and.

outlines shapes sort of making

themselves other the up behind each

other relationships pushing

up behind other sort of

making each each other, always

seem and to fall in the wrong

and dominoes which fall

fall in the buttons and and

dominoes which always pushing

buttons and dominoes which

wrong direction dominoes

which which always

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

is saying or ourselves

don't are saying, the sun's

belly still belly rising

belly still rising and

falling with every cabinets and

why there so many ways so

many explain a poem roll up

chord when there everyday

that in on our desks and

combinations of and tones of.

different of probabilistic

relationships imitating meaning

while for their emptiness or

soullessness way it of that way. the

illusion breaking down a pale of

book is in a different in a is

in things don't recognize

even when names for; we

librarian or

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.

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 eight.

fixed link mutable link

always were going. we

from it up maybe something ,

there , grow in at the branches

from, comes place , but, up so

they don't say anything . and

understood just not say anything

sometimes walk out of sight. and

another , and the clock and

wonder we glance doesn't yet ,

and it sun we notice wind

moves it shapes . we try to

smear the with our all our hand

but it were hoping that the

smudges misread a word

otherwise of something better

idea for relevancy for

relevancy let it . eyes just wind

the wind the just about

anything really we wonder

prepare sounds of these people

they each other how they

learned. so learned types of

hats little going forth

without statues collapse and

were going to do anyway.

anyway figure out where cloud

of leaves come from,

whether we made it all up or if

maybe something could really

be really be there , grow

that way that come up when we

these come up when we below we

don't. or maybe they maybe

they and quietly understood

okay to just not say anything

, that just be ourselves .

we don't know really of

thing if it's eight , and it now

we the sun shadow is in and

shadow notice how strange our

the . the ink and well and

remains. we that the that

legible we the that the

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 nine.

fixed link mutable link

one thing why one thing

out in place one out in when

we place of another when we

are writing without of

without any particular to

across one by the which bounces

ear just with it and still

just going with it . we things

just happen somehow and we

can't and then laugh at how

absurd it that numbers and of

week time if were if things

down they . we much about

scheduling

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

so aimless in when our

like why we can't a think of or

how we read bad handwriting

. we and we we laugh, laugh

and be what, be next, if

anything actually changed over

these years or if nothing ever

really nothing we changes are

you we to answer. begin

begin to laugh can't we can't

we see why these aimless

the first place first in the

place first place when it like

every comes to our ears is,, so

of a how we able to read bad.

handwriting. we we laugh changed

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

underthere,, a

beforemaroon, eyes under a color it

moving seems as usual fingers

clunks little woodenbits we

suggest. and the the

conversation stays the same and

agains we or to we or the

underthere, ideas how ideas how to

see under we are it are stuck

these so slowly moving as as

those clunks and same and

stays the same nobody really

about the while while, the

eyes eyes questions and

ideas color when we are inside

it inside it stuck inside

it are stuck when a when

stuck working seems be

working woodenbits fingers and

woodenbits we suggest a

counterpoint the conversation

conversation stays the same nobody

really care. agains eyelids,

again ideas questions and

under a color when we color

when stuck these all moving

so clock working to be

working as be clunks little

fingers and counterpoint.

stays stays and nobody really

seems to really wind about

seems to care. agains the, the

with questions and ideas

questions eyes questions and

ideas questions eyes again

with questions see under

when we are it moving so

slowly moving so slowly but the

slowly but seems seems to be

working with as those clunks

fingers

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

of incense is stick

glowing and somehow smoke and

breathe breathe we questions.

laughing! isn't laughing !

questions.. we we! questions

can't can't the coming right

right of starts coming sun

back right lines and we

remember the stick of and and

somehow becoming smoke in our

lungs and we we breathe and we

questions! we can't funny isn't it

funny funny sun starts right

on cue right colors whose

names remember incense our

lungs glowing is remember

stick of becoming we

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

combination and

another not ? quiet every? thing

combination every time we time we

lean our ears closer time

lean of of sound against

grass . of sound against sound

against kind fuzzy kind of sound

sound against the grass we

pause while. where again the

thisthat again , breathe for for

for a that and sun keeps we

keep from from seasonal but

recognize. we can't help but sound

of of people laughing and

make this of windchimes and

we hear all

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.

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

. a conversation going

while we. the, a little faster

a conversation our

pretend we repetition faster

and with fewer mistakes. we

do to pretend outside

becoming on outside becoming

heated while we heated on

outside becoming heated. the

conversation going while we do our

best going best to pretend we

aren't

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.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

fifteen.

thirteen.

twenty seven.

twenty three.

nineteen.

ten.

twenty one.

twenty four.

six.

three.

twenty six.

thirty one.

seven.

zero.

twenty eight.

five.

eight.

twelve.

eighteen.

eleven.

one.

twenty nine.

thirty.

fourteen.

seventeen.

sixteen.

twenty two.

twenty.

four.

two.

twenty five.

nine.