we accidentally imagine

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 seven.

fixed link mutable link

desk happened, someone

sort of their of happen

things just sort of we close our

eyes for feel like floating

outside our bodies , that open

stinging dents in the floorboard

and ask they came from what

caused wooden freckle and

someone we care of someone

someone lot about, how the desk

desk happened purpose own

somehow we close our outside is

somehow might enough the this

stinging sensation in our hands

hands floorboard dents

floorboard small ask ourselves and

walls paint and scratch on the

how each knot did it on if

someone did it purpose someone

did

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 eight.

fixed link mutable link

we listen to the sounds

of all these people we've

never met laughter and

conversation, pointing toward their

destination as they explain to each

other how they learned about

the place. so many

different types of hats. all these

little motions, events going

back and forth without

leaving any sort of permanent

mark because even roads and

dams and enormous statues

collapse and fade eventually,

and things just do what they

do what they always were

going to do anyway. we try to

figure out where the patterns

in a cloud of leaves come

from, whether we made it all up

or if maybe something

could really be there, that

maybe the leaves decided or

felt some need or urge to grow

in such a way that these

grid patterns come up when we

look at the branches from

below. and now someone we know

comes walking by our sitting

place, but we don't look up so

they don't see us so they

don't say anything. or maybe

they noticed us looking away

and quietly understood

that sometimes it's okay to

just not say anything, that

sometimes we can just be

ourselves. we don't know, really.

and they walk out of sight.

and another thing happens

which doesn't matter, and we

glance at the clock and wonder

if it's eight yet, and it

isn't now we notice that the

sun is behind us, and that

our shadow is in front of us.

we notice how strange our

hair looks when the wind

moves it around into

different shapes. we try to smear

the ink and lead with our

hand but somehow it all

sticks to the paper so well and

remains perfectly legible. we

were hoping that the smudges

might make us somehow misread

a word or note or two and

help us think of something we

wouldn't have otherwise, but

maybe a different technique

or execution would be

better, more appropriate. we

question the idea of relevancy

for a moment, and let it go.

we close our eyes and just

listen to the wind and

airplanes and feel the sun warming

our legs. we wonder what

could come from this just

about anything, really we

wonder if anything could or

couldn't prepare us for it, and if

it would matter anyway

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

to beforemaroon,,,

again with questions how

inside inside are stuck inside

these these things slowly

with little fingers and and

little a a we suggest

counterpoint suggest a counterpoint

. the conversation stays

stays stays stays seems to

agains eyelids,, the eyes

again questions see under a

color color when we are stuck

inside are stuck inside it so

slowly all these things all

moving these things all moving

moving so to be and suggest a

counterpoint really seems to to care

about the. agains the

wayingsong a we again with

questions ideas how to see under a

see under a color when under

a inside moving so slowly

but the clock to as those

little fingers a counterpoint

the conversation and the

conversation and the counterpoint.

and the conversation.

seems nobody really about the

wind.. agains agains

eyelids and underthere and

ideas are stuck inside moving

so slowly seems to working

as usual with and

woodenbits and to nobody the, and

underthere, the eyes again with

questions and and ideas ideas a

color all all these things

slowly but to the the seems but

the clock usual those usual

with those clunks little

fingers clunks and little

suggest a stays the

conversation stays nobody really and

nobody nobody to care about

agains a we or to beforemaroon,

again questions questions

eyes again with color see

under a color all all moving so

slowly but woodenbits a we a a

counterpoint . and and nobody the same

nobody seems to to the the wind .

. about the wind, the

beforemaroon eyes again with how a are

when are

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

illusion the illusion

the blue are a pale a pale a

pale are we that we are we are

pale blue dot, a library in

place in place in a library a

different for even when we not sure

a few shelves feet if the

shuffling is librarian haven't

don't even until the sun came

back music, or playing on the

galaxies remember questions of

questions of own are toward, are it

will wondering toward will

finally stop for a minute which

the, the momentnow leading

shapes, changing and changing

momentnow never, situations

where things where things

some make sense of some sense

of things sense they as

left just remember we

remember that illusion and

allowing things which allowing

things which don't make sense

much difference between our

actions and our between our own

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

we wonder what might be

next, if anything actually

changed over these years or if

nothing ever really changes. we

reject the idea that nothing

really changes and we ask

ourselves an unexpected question

in return: “who are you?”

and we are unable to answer.

we don't know. and then we

begin to cry. and then we begin

to laugh, and laugh, and

laugh. can't we see why these

questions are so aimless in the

first place when it seems like

every minute or second a new

question comes to our ears which

is so, so, so much more

important like why we can't think

of a good question to begin

with at the moment or how we

are able to read bad

handwriting. we laugh, and we laugh,

and we laugh.

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.

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.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

laughing! isn't it

funny how we can't help but

smile when the sun starts

coming back right on cue shades

of these colors whose

names we can't remember lines

and lines and so many lines.

we remember that the stick

of incense is still

glowing and somehow becoming

smoke in our lungs we breathe

and we breathe and we

breathe. we forget to ask

questions.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

at least we go for our

instincts we don't looking for our

instincts for our instincts we we

left circumstances calling

smiling. are smiling us smiling

and are smiling and we don't

one of us smiled first?

these across don't know when

when don't know why they

across don't across don't know

why they know why

amplifying across a group

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.

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

we that could be the

point. goals sneaking into

the thoughts interactions

colors colors colors and ideas

ideas watch with a smile.

outlines of of all just happens

outlines sort of making

themselves up shapes sort of behind

each dominoes which

relationships fall in the not expected

or or intended direction.

we be the point that could

be goals ideas into paints

the thoughts again. ideas

and interactions and it all

just happens. trangles into

shapes each dominoes

direction.,, we expected or

intended that could,, but maybe

or intended, be the ideas

and paints and concrete,

all these watch with all

these these colors and ideas

all these colors and it all

into other themselves up

behind the dominoes which

wrong we expected or intended

, but maybe maybe the the

thoughts. and interactions.

spray paints all a smile. it

watch with with with ideas

permeating while we watch it

outlines all into making

themselves up buttons seem to fall

in the wrong direction.

way we expected not not

going the but maybe point. and

paints and concrete, all these

permeating paints paints all with a

smile.. it with of squares

other things, shapes sort of

squares and and trangles into

other things squares of

making and relationships

pushing buttons buttons seem to

wrong direction, but maybe

goals ideas and interactions

goals be the point. goals

sneaking spray paints all these

while happens outlines of

squares of making themselves

themselves up the seem going the but

not going, but maybe that

that could be, be be the point

. goals sneaking into the

thoughts interactions colors

colors and a all just

twenty.

fixed link mutable link

pink maybe “can it stay

like this we don't for a . “can

it stay like this for a

while once ,. ?” it for and,

stay like this for once. the

damp sticks from outside.

sound everything maybe we

remember why. remember pink .

stay like this “can,,. of

damp sticks a we is for now we

this for and once. the sound.

we everything is so sound

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

. little with little

faster and the little getting

best to pretend we becoming .

the conversation going on

heated fewer faster fewer

mistakes. the conversation

going on outside going best

outside and with fewer mistakes

conversation going while we pretend

heated on heated on outside

becoming with fewer, every

repetition accurate every aren't

to pretend we best we.

aren't to pretend little more

accurate, little more accurate.

every repetition getting a

little little getting we

repetition getting more accurate,

a little faster and with

accurate little faster on we do

our best listening. every

aren't listening a with

conversation. we becoming heated

while we do while the on we do

our best to a little more

accurate a little more. every

little faster and little

faster fewer mistakes a little

faster on outside becoming

going on the fewer little more

accurate a we becoming heated

while we heated while

listening. every more accurate,

little more accurate little

faster fewer little getting a

with fewer mistakes. going

the conversation going on

outside becoming heated do we

aren't every repetition

pretend we we do our while we

pretend we aren't listening our

best to pretend we aren't

listening. getting a little more a

little more getting, with a

little more accurate, a

repetition getting, every

repetition getting a a little

faster and the conversation

going with fewer faster and a

more accurate. the do we best

listening. getting a we aren't do

heated. fewer going while the

conversation going while we do we

aren't getting a little more

accurate , a little going while we

do our repetition getting

a with becoming heated

while the conversation

heated while our conversation

going while mistakes on

outside becoming mistakes. the

becoming our aren't listening.

every repetition getting a a

little faster and outside do

our best to a repetition

getting and with fewer mistakes

. with fewer and with

fewer, a little faster

repetition getting every a to

pretend we best to a to becoming

we aren't listening

pretend we while listening.

getting a little getting, with

conversation going the conversation

going while we heated while

mistakes conversation going

while outside becoming we

aren't to pretend outside

becoming we becoming heated

aren't listening while

listening. every repetition

accurate and with. the fewer and a

accurate a little more a accurate

aren't listening our best to

pretend we we do our on

conversation going on outside and

with more accurate a

repetition listening while we

pretend we aren't listening.

every do the becoming heated

outside becoming we do our best

to pretend best to pretend

we aren't listening.

every repetition getting a we

aren't accurate, repetition

little more accurate. the

conversation going on conversation

going with fewer mistakes on

outside becoming heated while

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

the sound of the voices

make voices against the

vibrations buzzing.. more okay.

combination or. which slantingway

or combination making

another not the vibrations the

every closer trying to inside

the inside the inside our

actions to our actions. the sun

kind of . and again again , and

a bird a recognize. can't

help smile the sound of

people windchimes and we hear

all these acoustic

vibrations buzzing inside our

chests and combination okay .

work the more quiet trying to

try not actions but try not

to notice . sun outside

making fuzzy kind of sound

against the just breathe for a

while theringly , the second

hand ticking by again and and

and again by all these these

for breathe these breathe

we . don't recognize..

somehow the voices make this of

harmony against the of our

chests and not warmer but more

work and another not one

thing work and another and

another vibrations more quiet

every time we closer we our

actions actions notice . the try

not to notice kind of sound

against the fuzzy kind of sound

against the grass breathe where

again the thisthat theringly

, the by again and again

while while all , while sound

the sun sound and from

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.

one.

fixed link mutable link

and just like that, the

page turns for us. the next

series of random numbers fill

the screen and we begin to

imagine dots and we begin to

connect them and agree and

disagree with them, relate to

them and question them and

share them. the page glares.

we glare. everybody is

glaring and nobody is laughing

and then one of us starts

laughing, and another one of us

starts laughing, and we are all

laughing and the paper is

laughing and the inkdots are

laughing: the numbers are

laughing too.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

to the which just just it

that it still just going. it

and still happen somehow

and can't at we days of at

time might sound like if time

might like if someone and if

they trying we stop worrying

so much start (not books

what might be for cross

tomorrow or why we are writing

just one by one with a

scratchy bounces through next

pen and going to through our

ear bounces going with it

suspect and we can't and then

laugh help but and laugh a and

then can't help that we laugh

how and then laugh at we ever

it is even think about

things ever even think about

and the week things like

numbers and days of the might

sound like if listen is ) were

same time might two things

happening at might sound like if at

the same, what two

happening sound things happening

if someone and if they to

write things down as they. we

thinking (not worrying for

breakfast in place of we are

writing without any particular

sense of to begin one with just

going across by one on next

straight on our just we but and we

smile a little that we think

like numbers and of week,

might sound like if at time

happening to listen is and if

trying to listened much about

and books much (not why we

one are writing without any

particular sense begin with with a

scratchy

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

go from one happens that

sometimes things are they are,

from one to the other go from

one to from one other

without. and okay, sometimes

okay, sometimes it happens

that that go the other and

things are not sometimes even.

, happens. and sometimes

not okay, and sometimes

sometimes it happens that we go

that we other trying

sometimes it the things are and

sometimes happens that we even

trying not are sometimes, and

sometimes sometimes we go from one

to trying . even trying

okay, sometimes they are,

and happens that sometimes

things are not okay, and one

okay sometimes it and

sometimes sometimes sometimes

they not. and things even

trying without and sometimes

it happens from one one to

things are they are go other.

and sometimes they are are,

go from one to other

without even are that we trying

not okay, go from to from

from. and sometimes and, and

and sometimes sometimes

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

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 three.

fixed link mutable link

resonant, turn their

wheels we wonder end will all

part, sentence. one another

into same the smiles the hugs

, paints timer ticking

and we keep our best

pretending on from help but the

temperature changing is landing of

paper and is glowing and we for

a moment don't if not

don't. don't care because

never happy or feel human sun

is on glowing and the going

keeps a little keep smiling

and an instant we are able us

for every and is doing, sort

of moves tones staring us

away, being absorbed by the

floorboards kind of kinetic energy

pushes how and how cars turn we

will of punchline without a

clinging some glue

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

nine.

twenty seven.

eleven.

thirteen.

twenty eight.

fourteen.

thirty one.

ten.

seven.

four.

eighteen.

nineteen.

zero.

thirty.

six.

eight.

sixteen.

fifteen.

seventeen.

twenty six.

twenty.

twenty one.

two.

twenty five.

twenty two.

five.

one.

twenty nine.

twenty four.

three.

twelve.

twenty three.