Tag Archives: curious

je suis



the invisible
is present, bidden or
not bidden, so

i admit to feeling

(you prefer
lower case i’m guessing?

i do)

your nearness,

much more

than God – is that your father:
enormous, cliff-
like, unknowable shore line
everywhere and nowhere
or did i make him up? – and

you remain unseen yet noticeable
and quiet, as a young
girl, painfully shy


and here:

are you the swing? are you the hush?
are you the dusk

light, and why is your name such
a problem? i admit to feeling un-
comfortable with it
in public,


i don’t mind thinking it

je suis is as close as i get

why do you keep
showing up discernibly concealed?

what did you learn as a human? and
what do you continue to learn as a

you are
the missing
person who
i look for
in a stadium
crowd, far off,
other side of field
eye contact
we locate each
other, impossible
to talk, we wave,
sort of, our
gaze in a
held in that
small holiness

just seeing you is
seeing me

you are the being in
a person without a
body, right? though in a
body, is that it?
that certain near-thing
we know is distinct
and unique
in me

like being in your own car, your own pew,
your own bed

how am i
doing so

stop me if
i’m going


poem by chris woodhull / photograph by kumiko ishigaki

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Taking Flack


You’re studying art? But how are you going to make a living?”

SStahhhp this!

Why do we keep asking artists this question?

If I counted how many times I have been asked this question and gotten the “look” that comes along with it I could….I don’t know…But main point, is that artists are bombarded with this question. And BELIEVE ME we are already thinking and worrying about it. Why reinforce that self-doubt? Artists know that their profession includes daily risk taking.

I recently attended an art lecture given by the artist Sharon Louden and she said point blank that “It takes a community to be an artist.” Hell yeah. And not just a community of artists, it takes all types; left-brainers and right-brainers alike.

And so with that being said I speak to everyone, lets become a community of challengers, motivators, appreciators, lovers, and thinkers.

-paris / art by patrick bremer

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inner dialogue


What’s the point?

So you wanna know about Jesus, huh?

Yeah. I mean, nah dude, stop, I really don’t care but if you got something to say, say it.

You’re the one who brought it up.

Ok never mind.



Dude just say what you gotta say. If you can’t make it simple forget it.

..let me see…really at it’s core the good news is about one thing: and one thing only the impossible got abolished.

I don’t understand.

The impossible got abolished. Nothing is impossible. All that negative shit in your head is not true.

I don’t understand.

Look. When Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation what did he do?

Freed the slaves I guess.

Yeah and do you think the white brothers down in Texas, when they found out, went out to the fields, rounded up the workers and hollered, “Hey y’all are free now. President just changed things up. Y’all can go on? You think they did that?

Nah probably not.


Ok, damn, I know they didn’t.

Yeah so a bunch of Union soldiers, led by Major General Gordon Granger got on horse back to ride down to Galveston, Texas to give them the news. It’s called Juneteenth, the oldest known celebration commemorating the ending of slavery in the United States. This was two and a half years after the signing of the emancipation proclamation.

That’s kind of like what I am talking about with the good news. The good news is not advise but news. Something happened! Jesus did something decisive. They don’t put things in the newspaper because it is interesting or good advice. They put things in the paper because something happened, something shifted. That’s what I mean. Jesus did something. He freed the slaves. He abolished the impossible. And yet you don’t believe it. You still living on the plantation.

You got a point.

Yeah I got a point.

That’s cool. But you know something?


The plantation is real. I can see it.

It’s what you know to be true that is real whether you can see it or not.


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eye of beholder: psalm


Something catches my eye.  I notice.  I linger.  I become a question mark.

It’s not really me doing the catching, doing the looking, the lingering and yet: it is me, and yet: it’s more than me, it’s beyond me.  It is in me, around me, high above me.

My beholding eye.  Still.  Moving.  My selfless self wavering like a paper thin kite lifting and suspending in the air. Holding the twine between my fingers, my eye floats.  I follow.  I go where the kite goes.  It goes.  It catches.

A bird, the curlicues of a falling leaf, the wideness of a late afternoon azure sky, a bevel in a pane of glass, a paint chip, the downbeat off a bass lick.  Or as Denise Levertov describes, noticing a dog going, “intently haphazard.”

What strange subtlety, little invisible imperceptible perceptions.  I wonder.  I wander.  I pause and without forethought, my eye dilates and beholds.

It has a life of its own, my eye.  It sees something I don’t see and now I see it.  It knows what it’s looking for.  Yes?  My eye or the object of my beholding?  It is the curious threshold between me and the world.


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