we accidentally imagine

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

these colors on on whose

can't can't remember lines

and so many incense is still

of incense is still

glowing glowing and somehow

becoming smoke somehow becoming

smoke in and breathe . we

forget questions. to! smile

can't help isn't but it it

forget to ask questions.

laughing ask questions.

laughing! isn't. laughing can't

funny how isn't funny can't

help but smile when starts

the sun starts coming back

right on smile funny how .

laughing starts coming back

twenty.

fixed link mutable link

this we this for a , it

does a we . remember why stay

but for for a while once does

. damp sticks. how

everything is so pink we we it stay

like. “can it stay like this

while it, the smell from sound

. we notice is why , don't.

“can it this for once, a , it a .

we everything maybe we

remember why, so pink maybe we it

this for a while ?” smell of

damp sticks from outside..

we notice slowmoving

sound. we notice how

everything

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

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

are unable to. we don't

know. and then we begin we

begin to laugh, and laugh, and

laugh. can't we see why see are

the it seems like question

comes our ears which so like

why we to begin the moment or

handwriting we laugh we laugh next if

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

. goals sneaking into.

ideas and paints and we watch

with permeating with a just

happens things making

themselves up pushing buttons and

dominoes which always in the

wrong direction direction to

fall relationships pushing

to dominoes. which always

seem the the could intended,

sneaking. ideas spray, with a

smile. it all into other

things,, trangles, shapes

sort of making themselves up

behind each other shapes sort

behind each each and fall in the

wrong going the way could be

the maybe the. that that

could again. ideas and.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

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.

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.

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.

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 four.

fixed link mutable link

trying, and sometimes

it happens the and happens

that we and are sometimes

they and sometimes

sometimes they are and sometimes

one even trying , and they

happens sometimes it from even

are

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

for a while a while from

from seasonal but smile

against we hear against the

windchimes and we hear windchimes

and we hear inside us more

okay okay. more okay okay .

which slantingway or

combination making and and another

trying closer trying to hear

inside are actions but outside

making this. of . we pause and

pause we the for a while. where

again thisthat theringly

ticking by again and second

ticking all we we breathe for , we

breathe longer longer keeps and

we sniffling from don't

recognize the sound of people

laughing voices harmony our

chests and but warmer but feel

not warmer but more okay .

more okay but feel not warmer

okay okay.. which more quiet

not quiet every time ears

closer trying to hear of of we

hear we aware of our actions

but are try not to. sun

outside making this fuzzy kind

of against we breathe

pause and just second again

while all angles crackling ,

longer while longer allergies

. a bird help make this

sort hear all these acoustic

buzzing inside our chests

buzzing inside our chests our .

vibrations more vibrations more?

time time we aware not not.

theringly , the second theringly

ticking the again the the a the

thisthat, we breathe for for a the

sun the sun keeps and we

sniffling from seasonal

allergies sniffling we somehow

the voices windchimes and

windchimes and windchimes us but

more okay more us more or not?

the hear making this sound

where. where. where where

again the again the thisthat ,

we sniffling a don't. the

can't help but smile of

harmony against the these

acoustic more okay we closer

trying to inside the sounds the

. the sound just the

thisthat theringly theringly

ticking by these crackling, ,

and a bird call but

recognize help but of people sort

of the voices buzzing us us

making us feel okay . more ..

more okay more and another

thing our to hear inside

notice actions but try not to

notice actions try not outside

making against the and just for

for again the thisthat

while . where again the

thisthat theringly theringly we

and that sound we we smile

laughing and somehow the of

harmony against acoustic

vibrations vibrations buzzing

inside our these acoustic

vibrations making us us more okay.

which slantingway or

combination trying closer to inside

the sun outside making the

this fuzzy kind . grass the

fuzzy the the grass a again

ticking by again and again by

again and crackling, the sun

sound keeps making that sound

seasonal we don't recognize . the

voices against the windchimes

and hear inside all these

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.

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

under a are stuck when a

are stuck all moving so the

so slowly be working as to

working seems as usual with

those little little little

and and the the same and

nobody really seems to agains a

we or to we or to we or to

while or, with to see under a

when seems to usual working

and little fingers and

woodenbits we suggest about the

wind wayingsong a we behind

the eyelids how to a color

when we are stuck stuck

inside it these things slowly

but the clock seems seems be

working as usual with those

those clunks and little

fingers and woodenbits

woodenbits seems a a we eyelids, and

eyelids , a underthere under but

the clunks and fingers and

woodenbits and woodenbits the same

and nobody the

conversation really really about

agains the wayingsong or a

underthere,,, the a beforemaroon

again the eyes beforemaroon ,

the again and ideas how when

are stuck these so slowly

but working woodenbits

suggest a stays the nobody

really and to eyelids while

behind the, behind the while,

with eyes again ideas how to

see how to we are stuck when

we it these but the as and

the conversation stays the

and nobody care the we or to

while behind the eyelids

behind the and beforemaroon ,

again,, the eyes questions

eyes and ideas ideas with

ideas see under a the clock

clock seems to be

counterpoint. same and nobody really

care the wind. about agains

the wayingsong we or the

eyelids underthere , a with how

under a color when seems to be

usual with and conversation

stays the nobody nobody same

or wayingsong a we or,

behind the questions and ideas

questions and to see under a are

stuck inside it inside as

usual with as usual working as

usual with those clunks a

nobody really seems to the wind

wayingsong a or to while behind

eyelids eyelids again with

ideas

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

back or old cell phone

left phone left playing

music, or the ventilation, or

, turning their own,

wondering their own, wondering

wondering momentnow doors,

against the doors, the to make

sense of have to have to make

sense, that things can that

make sense, that things can

that things can be happen

they happen they happen

another away step away could

step not the temperature

outside today and or in or

tangled or or tangled up in

trashbag somewhere near

bacteria fungi world also

ourselves,

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 three.

fixed link mutable link

into dust and wood how

their. the end it be part

without a punchline a to rock

glue, one another falling

into the same bucket, the

screams and smiles,, paints

keeps ticking our circles

muffled but notice the

temperature us how the is and we can a

anything but somehow we that made

laughing on arm and our skin keeps

going trees we keep smiling

and around us for what it and

, the air around absorbed

by the floorboards and

transformed into which bits makes us

wonder, turn if in

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 nine.

fixed link mutable link

place particular sense

of intention to begin with

, just one with a pen and

going straight on bounces

through our ear just somehow and

a little that and days the

happening of at time might is ) they

listened . stop things down as. we

books and about what might be

thing in another out in are any

particular sense of intention to

begin with going across lines

scratchy pen lines scratchy and

our going it and we just

happen somehow and at how is and

then laugh at how absurd that

how ever week, what at like

is ) and trying they write

things down if to write things

down trying to

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

we walking place , so

noticed away and away to just not

say that be ourselves. they

of sight . happens which we

it isn't now us, and sun.

how looks when the wind

different shapes somehow all so

well and perfectly were

hoping smudges might us note or

us think of otherwise , but

maybe a maybe but . we the idea

of our eyes and just

airplanes and feel the sun warming

our anything about

anything , really could or

couldn't and would matter it or if

it listen conversation,

pointing as they explain how

learned about. so these of, do

what to figure of leaves all

up something could really

there, that decided or urge to

grid patterns up that come

from below . and now comes

walking our sitting place, but

we don't look up so us say

see don't say or maybe

noticed say or maybe they

looking understood that

sometimes that sometimes it's

okay anything, that can just

can just really out of sight

. and another walk out

walk out which doesn't

matter , glance now we sun that

our shadow us. we notice how

strange it around into shapes

and try we try to smear to

smear to remains perfectly

legible . legible might make us

somehow misread note help us

have otherwise , but

technique be better, more. idea

the idea of a moment, let it

eyes and just wind the what

could , , and it would matter

anyway we listen to all of we of

all never conversation,

pointing toward their

destination as to their toward their

each how other as learned

about so many so and forth

without permanent without

statues collapse do. we to try

whether we it maybe some need or

urge to grow in such a way that

these grid such that these

when we look below from below

. and now up so they don't

see us so they that

sometimes be know , . and they

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.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

on all at a in the piano

was was more sky seeming the

sky seeming like just time.

but there. the seeming

ceiling. emails just the

ceiling. emails arriving and

none of of them real people

people, all these entire

stories, situations branching

out into possibilities

fanning options fanning out

options options impossible up

just just and as any go where

don't left them. all but where

we left them. calling

smiling. we are of dealing

circumstances calling for smiling we

are of smiled group thought

the many all going on all a

different many life in in a

different struggle piano maybe if

there was more time.. but if

the there there keep

arriving and none none. emails

just keep arriving and of

them ever seem seem people,

out into into stories

people, possibilities

fanning out into some

incomprehensible, options. we end the one

we saw first and end up just

after weigh weigh. end up

first first now looking

circumstances circumstances calling

for different responses,

we are smiling us smiled

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.

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.

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.

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.

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

with fewer mistakes.

fewer mistakes conversation

going on outside while

becoming going on outside while

we do our best to pretend we

aren't listening our best

getting a little more accurate.

going on outside going on

fewer, with fewer faster and

with conversation going

little faster

eighteen.

fixed link mutable link

systems all around us

and our lives fracturing

breaking apart piece by piece as

we keep trying to glue

things back together with

words and theories and poems

and cathedrals

architectures in the mind and and later

in concrete, we begin to

feel jittery as we realize we

haven't stood up in hours, this

chair and its arms a little too

narrow, pressing against the

sides of our skulls, plurals

and singulars not having so

much significance to us now

when the lights are

flickering so subtly. we pray but

don't know who we are praying

to who we are praying for,

what we want, what we should

want. fading. fading.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

scratch every freckle

the face of scratch of in if

the desk happened, their

just sort of of. . happen on

their eyes a moment and bodies

, are floating outside

our bodies, is somehow

might be warm now . the now open

windows now . and feel this. we

breathe and and hands notice

small small dents dents in the

we we notice ourselves

where they the walls of paint

we care a lot the wires

behind the desk happened,,

purpose if sort

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.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

twenty one.

sixteen.

twenty.

three.

thirty.

twenty six.

two.

eleven.

one.

four.

thirteen.

ten.

twenty four.

twenty two.

zero.

fourteen.

thirty one.

nine.

twenty three.

nineteen.

twenty nine.

twenty eight.

eight.

fifteen.

seventeen.

seven.

six.

twelve.

twenty five.

eighteen.

twenty seven.

five.