we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seed 132376

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

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link
in, a different maybe if
there was more time. but there
isn't. the sky seeming like
just arriving seem to all
fanning out into fanning out
into entire stories,,
options after options going
going as good at go looking
don't remember
circumstances calling for for ways all
for where we left them.. all
these different
circumstances calling, different
ways and because one of us
smiled social gestures
gestures amplifying across a
group smiled amplifying
across of social of social
gestures why they thought the
joke was funny when they
funny they didn't even joke
don't they were so many even
hear half funny when who
don't know why thought when
they funny when they didn't
even because there were so
many going going on all at
different different life story, a
different struggle every note in
the different struggle
behind every note maybe. just
isn't. the the sky seeming
ceiling arriving and keep
arriving and none to and none of
them from to be into entire

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link
and forth without any
because even because even roads
and roads and dams collapse
and fade and what they
always were going to out where
the patterns in a out where a
cloud , up all, , there felt
some need or leaves decided
urge or need leaves some grow
such a way urge in such a below
. and now someone now the
at the branches someone we
sitting so but . maybe they
noticed quietly to not
sometimes just. we . and. and
another thing , and it isn't now ,
and isn't that is behind us,
is how strange our strange
hair looks when the wind
moves try all sticks to but
hand somehow it all were
hoping that the us somehow
misread

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.

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.

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.

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.

sixteen.

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

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.

two.

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

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.

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.

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 nine.

fixed link mutable link
like numbers and days
the week , what two things
the might sound like is
listen if someone were (we is if
they were ) and write things
were trying to write things
down as they we stop things
down as they listened stop
things down so and about what
for breakfast tomorrow in
place we with, just going
across lines one going
straight on to the our ear with it .
we help but little and
laugh a little help but we ever
it little and it things
like days of what two at the
same time nobody is ) and we
stop much about thinking
(not worrying )

twenty four.

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

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 seven.

fixed link mutable link
if someone did it if
these we close feel like that
the incense is our
foreheads open warm enough our
hands now we our hands dents we
notice the from scrape caused
each and walls every freckle
the someone scratch about
how each if if if these on on a
moment moment and for. we our
like floating outside feel
like, it enough outside to
open stinging sensation in
now we notice small dents
ourselves caused each groove what
each of paint every walls and
scratch on the face of of someone
we care care wires behind
happened did it on purpose of if
these just happen we close our
like we somehow

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link
dust , how squirrels
quickly and how cars turn their
wheels if in all turn punchline
,. bricks rock glue, the
opinions the same, we keep
pretending of voices from moment
all the sun piece room
glowing feel it on for a if things
are repeating or not care
and because about more like
the is glowing and, the
trees and able around what air
just sort of moves around
turning away, floorboards of
kinetic energy which pushes
bits of and us why how
squirrels climb cars if turn out to
be a these another, the
bucket, screams the and the
violins keeps ticking and we not
to. circles of on help but
notice every, this piece of the
whole can feel it a moment we
themselves or not and caring about

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link
behind the eyelids, a
eyes and ideas a color are it
seems be counterpoint really
wayingsong a to while behind the
eyelids, a beforemaroon, a eyes
questions see under a to it these
things clunks usual with those
clunks and little fingers and
woodenbits and the and to and a eyes
under stuck it things all
moving so slowly clock seems be
working. and the conversation
stays same and nobody to wind.
agains wayingsong and
underthere beforemaroon, a
beforemaroon, the see under a are
stuck stuck working as usual
those clunks and woodenbits
we suggest a counterpoint
the same and

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.

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.

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.

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link
much difference
between our minds tied or in
tangled up in food fungi we
remember that having no remember
the world our thoughts, our
actions thoughts , our, our
thoughts that this this
beautiful thing that's
completely okay, if it let be, let it
be, if we watch ground,
following strange path strange
path strange in its strange
together with the crowd going
just falling around for
hours supposedly some job
being values we even when we
don't quite understand
anyone is or why are ourselves
don't quite what why we are why
we are saying are saying it
the belly with every breath
they are shaped the there so
are so many poem a and roll up
our sleeves when there a new
color in the sky voice meaning
relationships soullessness if of it
that breaking. the that
smallvoiced, we a pale blue, a
library place sand a grain of
sand book library place sand
of sand a library where
every and are pictures of or we
thought we and if the not sure old
friend old friend we friend
name we we had came back maybe
the or maybe the
ventilation fans turning back own

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link
to grass. we . we pause
and just breathe for a, the
hand by again angles these we
breathe keep sniffling keep
sniffling seasonal allergies. a
bird call we allergies. of
somehow the voices windchimes
and acoustic vibrations
buzzing inside us feel okay .
which slantingway one thing
our to notice. the sun
outside this the thisthat
theringly thisthat, the second
hand while for bird a . we
can't but sound smile smile at
smile at harmony against sort
of harmony hear all these
acoustic our chests acoustic
vibrations buzzing vibrations
buzzing inside acoustic our
chests

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.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link
question comes to our
ears which is so, we can't
think of can't a good or are
able to read bad to, wonder.
we years or if nothing. we
reject nothing really changes
and we ask ourselves an
unexpected: “who don't know. are
unable to answer to “who are ?”
and we unable to answer. we
then to laugh. can't when
like it seems which is which
ears much more which is like
good a good question begin
with to begin with are able ,
and we,., next years that
nothing changes. these nothing
ever we reject the we the idea
that nothing really

twenty five.

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

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.

twenty.

fixed link mutable link
outside. a everything
is so notice how
everything is so remember why for
stay like this does. of damp,
it does for once, smell a
why for now we don't we
remember but for stay like a while
?” and, for once, the smell
it does. of damp sticks
from outside. we notice how
everything is so notice how outside
. a sticks from a sticks
from sound. we notice is so
pink maybe we remember why,
now “can like this for a
while ?” and, ,. damp. outside
of damp sticks from
outside of once the smell. we
notice how, but for “can it stay
like this for a don't. “can it
a, for once, and, does ?”
and once, it while like ?”
does slowmoving sound. is a
smell from smell of damp a
slowmoving from outside. how
everything maybe we for now why , now
we don't. “can now . “can
like this “can it stay like
this for a stay like now we
don't. “can, a

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

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 six.

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