Writers, painters, drawers, thinkers, coffee-sippers, dwindlers, rocking chair enthusiasts…we are warriors. Brave people put on this earth to question even the things we know are solid and right in our hearts. We remain as sponges; letting thoughts flood in, but occasionally wringing out ones that don’t belong. That’s us. We feel. We believe. And we fall and scrape our knees every day. We are warriors of the heart and believers of a beautiful now and a glorious future.
-paris
My heart hurt thinking about you
so I bought a book of poems
I may already have:
a line so small and heartbreaking
crept up on me
and slipped itself inside me and
stopped me dead in my tracks
and I trembled
– and yet, I may already have this line
in the very same book I may already own
and yet what if I am wrong
that is the question
about the book at home
and later this evening,
the store closed,
lights out, everybody
gone, home, alone, one lamp lit,
wondering how I dreamed up such a mistake
– what a terrible desolation – and
yet I am now driving home,
book in hand, so to speak,
in a bag resting in the passenger seat,
and the only surprise still possible
is this:
what if on the other hand,
I now have two beautiful slim volumes
of the exact same book of poems,
each with the hidden line I love,
one for me and the other for you.
chris woodhull
Monks & Mannequins 