we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seed 8295973

it is 2025. we wonder what to say next, and the wind is still blowing.

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link
hand ticking by these
sound from a bird recognize
and somehow the laughing
laughing and somehow the voices
against we feel not not warmer
and and inside us
combination making one thing work?
hear inside the sounds we . of
to to notice actions but
actions. of sound against the
grass we pause and again,
again all and again and again
while for angles and again

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.

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.

twenty five.

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

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.

three.

fixed link mutable link
a a with a red face
bulging veins not door even
caring what's on the with idea
of another to flicker
smell like something is
burning burning so we all try to
what kitchen kitchen
remember we can't remember, and
even even shout with fewer
fingers and door the and this
time this time again and
again and and again? the
questions which if last time
instead only become more
unhappy and at throw things at
the walls the walls the
walls with and shouting with a
red face red face again
against the what's the other
with the of the idea first
place first place another
another why why the there door
door being in there

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link
possibilities fanning
out into some some
incomprehensible options to options
impossible impossible up just
going weigh. just going with
the we saw we weigh. with the
one we seems as good as now at
but we different
circumstances calling different ways
ways of and we don't know why
of people who don't the the
joke was when when were a
different every jam, a different
in the piano. maybe if
there was there there sky
seeming arriving and to be from
arriving and people ever from
real people
incomprehensible. we end up just saw first
first and that least least our
but where left different we
are know first? these
across a group of know social
who don't when they it
because there were so things
going once, this struggle a
every every note was more
there was behind every was
every every. maybe. the sky
seeming like more time. but
seeming emails real branching
out into incomprehensible
tree , options weigh into
incomprehensible tree into entire into
some incomprehensible tree
end one we first and that
seems as good as least

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.

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.

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 seven.

fixed link mutable link
our bodies ,, that the is
in our open the in
floorboard and ask they the wooden
panels and and walls along
caused of paint freckle
freckle and on care lot the wires
wires how behind the desk
happened , if

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link
going suspect just
happen somehow and we can't
that just. happen and we just
and we can't but a little
ever even of the week and days
might is ) and if they to write
things worrying so thinking
(not worrying ) and so much
and books start thinking
(not worrying ) about what in
cross one or about one thing
out in place of another
cross in place of we cross one
out in are writing
intention one with just going
lines one by going pen and with
to ear just word and still
going with it and still going
just happen it and and we ever
it is that how about and
what two things happening
same someone were to like if
time might sound if someone
they listened we stop
worrying so much about ) why we
cross one thing out in cross
one thing out place why we
cross we are any of we place of
we place of we are of when we
are to just to by straight to
the next word which bounces
ear and going happen
somehow can't laugh help then we
ever about things like
numbers and days , what things
happening of the week two things
happening, what two and days week,
what two things happening if
someone (we ) and if they down
stop and breakfast why we
cross thing out in place any
intention a pen and going straight
to the next it just going
with just with it just it
through our ear going with it

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.

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.

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.

sixteen.

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

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link
and the fists and the
violins we keep of ink going on
from the other but notice how
sun is of paper and somehow
feel it on our skin and we all
or okay because made us
more human, more laughing
our through the keeps
little instant we it, how sort
tones floorboards of us
wonder why wood is so of their
wheels we wonder if the of, with
some rock glue, after facts
falling into the

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.

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
spray paints and
concrete, all these a smile and
making themselves pushing
buttons the sort other and
dominoes which always seem the
way intended,. not going
going the way we in not
expected or be the point. goals
sneaking spray paints and while
colors and.. it into up behind
each other the sort into into
other things other the
geometries and relationships the
geometries buttons and dominoes
which always seem to to to
direction. not we expected or
intended intended goals
sneaking. again. ideas and,
watch and ideas watch with of
squares and trangles into into
other sort of making
themselves the geometries and to
way we expected

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.

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.

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.

two.

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

thirty.

fixed link mutable link
, and laugh and, and
laugh, and, and laugh.,
nothing ever really. we reject
we ask ourselves are
unable we ?” are. we begin and
and can't we in the when it
seems minute or second a new
much, so much more why we,
much more important of at or
handwriting. and we we anything
these. the an in return: we ask
ourselves question in return:
“who and to answer are you
answer. don't know. begin to to
laugh laugh questions every
comes ears or a

twenty four.

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

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link
front of us we notice we
how our looks when into
different into different shapes
to smear the ink and
somehow all sticks to the but
somehow it all sticks to paper so
well perfectly legible . or
and technique different
better, we of relevancy for and
let it go moment, it our the
wind the our legs . wonder we
if anything couldn't for
it, matter all listen
we've never of these as
explain to each other as they
explain how the different types
leaving sort of permanent mark
because even roads and dams and
enormous statues collapse and,
going we try out . figure out
where the we try to figure out
where cloud, all

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.

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link
we ourselves we are why
the wind still the with
every breath as and they so
many poem or explain thought
or write a poem or explain
or ways to build a chord and
color in on our desks words,
probabilistic our ears and toes make up
soullessness think down that grain of
a in a library place in a
library where every is in
pictures of we don't recognize we
don't recognize or have names
good feet a old friend we an
old friend we haven't seen
in a long time whose name we
don't remember laughed

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.
,