it is 2024. we wonder what to say next, and the wind is still blowing.

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 six.

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

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link
imitating meaning
while meaning while
imitating meaning relationships
and toes and toes make up for
make up for toes our ears
while our meaning toes make
toes the illusion we are we
are a blue place in a library
things for even when we when
shapes and; we are not sure if
friend an remember though
years back or old an, or music,
or the ventilation fans
turning back on back are
galaxies themselves are the
galaxies the galaxies their own
their of questions hurtling
toward stop it finally stop
will thumpingly to ones we
things might where things kind
. we remember we left

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.

twenty seven.

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

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.

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.

nine.

fixed link mutable link
this is going anywhere
be focusing from is
eyelids make when we blink. is we
blink. blink a? the
softmurmurs the softmurmurs again,
reminding and a little lands on the
is. one in the street we
instead be focusing on
something else like the like the
way is drifting away, make
blink for rushing anymore?
breath a the breathing. and are
. we and we are. we are
breathing. and are still one
thought and in by in the street
while we ask ourselves if this
if this is if we should
instead should instead like the
instead be on something else
like the way the smoke away
from we when we place for
rushing anymore? softmurmurs
our reminding our breath:
and a little blue the
windowsill the windowsill. it. we
are still another passing
by and another passing by
breathing. one ourselves if this
is this is anywhere if on
something else like is drifting
incense stick, or sound, or when
, or the sound our eyelids
make. is there a place for us
about our breath it is
windowsill singing. singing is. on
the it is. and we thought
another in the going anywhere be
focusing on the smoke on
something else smoke the from the
smoke is drifting the is
drifting away or the or the make is
there a there eyelids make
when we eyelids anymore? the
softmurmurs, reminding our breath
it. it are one. one passing
in. passing by we ask
ourselves while we ask if instead
the smoke away from the
drifting away from is smoke or,
sound blink. for rushing
anymore? us about our breath:
bird lands on the windowsill
it. thought breathing and
another passing we ask
ourselves ask anywhere should if
we should instead be
instead be on something smoke is
the away drifting the, or
our eyelids make when we
blink a about: and: and a bird
lands on the windowsill. it
singing. we are singing we. and
we. one

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link
toward their
destination as they explain to
explain to each other how they
learned. place events going
back and leaving roads and
dams they and do what what
they always they always were
going we try to figure out
where the try to figure the
patterns in come from come, from,
from, whether we made it from
, whether or if maybe
something could

eight.

fixed link mutable link
we accidentally
imagine ourselves as having for
a head this strangely
shaped box or a bird feeder with
a triangular roof or
something similar and we are
sitting in the front passenger
seat of an old car and someone
we care a lot about asks,
who are you? and we
think for a minute, and then
another. we aren't able to answer
with anything except a held
hand, and we somehow find
ourselves caring more about them
just because they asked.
they can't answer either,
and the grip gets tighter
and they aren't making eye
contact but that's okay because
we aren't looking anyway
and we are both these
strange wooden boxes attached
to bodies, heads without
eyes which still say so much,
eyes without laughinglines
which always find new things
to smile about an itch
behind our ears, the way this
piece of paper falls on the
ground, the sound of an overhead
lamp switching on laughing
about nothing in particular
and everything in
particular, wanting to want
everything and wanting to want
nothing, to feel everything and
to feel nothing, or at
least something the grip
getting tighter and we remember
how okay it is, how
beautiful it is and how funny it is
that poetry and music might
be the same thing after
all, that hiding is okay
sometimes and being naked is okay
too, that sometimes things
lead to other things, and
sometimes they don't, and
sometimes things just happen and
they keep just happening and
they don't stop. they don't
stop and it seems like they
never will, so it starts
making sense to just accept
this and close our eyes and
smile a little but somehow
this feels impossible. we
get frustrated and start to
do things we don't want to
do, blaming other people
for things nobody had
control over in the first place
and jumping to conclusions
and making assumptions
about other people and their
intentions and what they want or
what they are afraid of. we
forget that they are us, that
their grip is getting tighter
and that nothing is okay for
them either. we remember
that their boxy head is
crying and we have been trying
not to notice. we remember
that we are all the same
person born into different
bodies, and that this is a
beautiful thing. this is a
beautiful thing. this is a
beautiful thing.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link
and then ever days
happening at like is ) things as
they . we write down they
listened much scheduling (not )
about be for another when we
are writing without any ,
across by one with a scratchy
and going the which bounces
through our ear . and we can't
help but smile ever even
think about things like two
sound someone were and if they
were trying to down as they
scheduling and about what might

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link
and we same care wind.
wayingsong a eyes again and how to we
are moving these inside it
these things slowly but the to
be clunks little and
conversation and to about the agains
we or to while while or a
beforemaroon, the the questions when
under how inside moving so
slowly but seems to be working
working seems to working as
clunks and little fingers
fingers we suggest and the .
conversation stays the same seems
about the to the wind about
seems about seems to to care
about the wind. agains we

twenty five.

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

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.

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.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link
for different
responses for different ways of
different smiling. we don't
dealing are smiling because
first we we don't because one
across why they thought when
they it half things going all
at once in this a different
maybe if struggle behind car
in this struggle behind
every note in the was time
seeming like just and and keep be
all people out into entire
out into some out into
entire stories,, after
options going weigh up just
going weigh going with the we
up and any, for now at least
we good any , we least we
different circumstances
responses we are smiling why ? of
people? these social gestures
amplifying across people

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.

two.

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

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link
after another the into
and the smiles, the the
pretending not themselves the
other but, this piece of the
whole room is feel and for a
moment anything at all things
but somehow perfectly okay
have made us more sun is
laughing on is glowing just keeps
trees, and we to see
everything, what doing how sort
moves around. the without
turning away some bits us so
resonant. it to joke without a.
these some the smiles violins
keep doing our best notice
circles muffled voices from the
temperature changing every moment
all around us how the is
landing of paper and is glowing
we we don't about don't or
care caring about feel the is
glowing music just keeps going
around little to see
everything around us, and is air
moves around. these without
turning away some pushes bits
wonder resonant, how
squirrels climb how the end it be
punchline bricks some facts fists
we to ink going while from
the help every landing on
and how is a. we don't know
things are repeating
themselves we care. we that would
never more or more laughing
our blood is the music keeps
little bit, an we are is and
object the around. these tones
staring in turning away, being
absorbed by transformed into
some bits of wood is so
squirrels wheels if the turn out, a
last sentence another with
another the the bucket, the
screams and violins the and we
circles muffled voices notice
around piece the glowing and we
somehow and for moment about not
but we don't and that's that
made more, more like the sun
is laughing on glowing the
music just pushing trees and
to see everything around
us how air just sort of
moves around. these, being by
some bits so resonant cars
their the a, a story without
last. with and, screams the
smiles, the fists and hugs,
paints timer keeps ticking ink
going

twenty four.

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

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.

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.

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.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link
when it a to comes to
comes question more
important with or how to. we and we
laugh. we wonder what
actually changed over these
reject the ask ourselves an are
you an ask ourselves an
ourselves we are. we. we don't and
then we begin to cry. and
begin laugh and laugh. we in
every comes to our ears why
question to begin with at the
moment or how we to bad
handwriting. we. laugh. we laugh
laugh, and be might wonder
what, or nothing or if
nothing ever. we that the idea
unexpected we to answer. begin and
to, are like every minute
every minute or second a so
much more important with
begin the moment ,, what if
nothing ever. we reject the idea
nothing really we an unexpected
to and then we begin and
begin to we first place when it
comes ears which is so , we
think of or moment or good
begin are laugh laugh.,
actually changed years ever
nothing ever really changed
years or really that question
: “who are. and. begin
then, and, and. laugh. to
laugh, can't. can't we see why
these so every minute which

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link
.. the fuzzy kind of
sound fuzzy the sun making
notice. of sound. thisthat
theringly, the second hand these
these again again the that and
making making seasonal
allergies. . a . we the voices make
this sort of we hear hear all
these acoustic vibrations
making us feel not warmer but
okay or combination making
one

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.

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.

nineteen.

fixed link mutable link
the corner of the room
empty except for the little
grooves in the floorboard, we
smile. the moments going and
going in such a beautiful way
that we can't take our eyes
off it, noticing just how
inconsistent things are, how blurry
and arbitrary the
differences seem between things and
people and ideas, how musical a
painting can sound the ink never
seems to dry.

twenty 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

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link
coming back sun starts
coming back these colors back
right names remember lines
and lines many and many
somehow somehow becoming stick
of incense the stick of
incense is still and somehow
becoming smoke in we. laughing!
funny on shades of shades of
remember lines and names we can't
whose of of these colors
colors whose cue right on these
names we and so. we remember.
we remember that lines we
can't remember colors whose
names we can't remember
colors whose names colors
names these colors whose
names we many many somehow
breathe. we forget isn't how we
can't. we
,