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Eve Wood

Updated: Jun 13



The Fear of Wind Instruments

When this is all over,

Will we stare at each other’s mouths

With suspicion, rapt

In mandibular terror?

If, uncovered, someone loudly sighs,

Will there be consequences,

And what of wind instruments –

The young man down the block

Practicing Coltrane late into the night,

Or Irene, the flutist,

Who moved two doors down –

Will someone report them

For using their breath to sanctify

The space around them?

How long before all music goes missing from the world?


Heart Flock, 2018

Gouache and graphite on paper


Alone with my Vulture, 2020

Gouache and graphite on paper


Guns and Toilet Paper

What happened to the awakening To light, the attenuated Beauty of the sky As it fades once again into evening?

Now it’s all guns and toilet paper, A blunt force smile to the stranger Lingering in the empty aisles, And though these are sobering days, Blossoms continue to raise Their small heads to the sun, And the sweeping wings of the loon Will always lead us home.

What happened to the primordial cries of the soul, The steadying weight of dreams, Peach juice running down the sides of your face?

Now it’s all distance and dry goods, Self-chosen isolates on the verge of weeping Because no one understands What it is to be Alone.

What happened to the deepest breath at the center of all things -- The understated humor of the frog -- The gorgeous impossible heights of clouds, Or even the simple reassurance Of standing together Beneath the stars?


Braille Drawing 1, 2019

Gouache and oil stick on Braille paper


Braille Drawing, 2, 2019

Gouache and Oil stick on Braille paper


Lobster Boy, 2019

Gouache and graphite on paper


After Bukowski’s There’s a Bluebird in My Heart That Wants to Get Out

There’s a magpie in my brain

That wants to stay put.

It’s not that I mind her being there,

But sometimes the echo is

Deafening, singing

Her small days away

And mine also, attuned

To nothing but the darkening eclipse of time.

There’s a magpie in my brain

That wants to stay put

Because the earth is melting

And the gnarled fists of trees

Where once there were buds

No longer attracts her.

There’s a magpie in my brain

That wants to stay put

For no other reason

But she is terrified

That the glassy firmament of heaven

Is now only shattered glass.

There’s a magpie in my brain

That wants to stay put,

And I know it’s serious

When any creature would prefer

The dark and harrowing matter

Between my ears

To the magnificence of the living world.

There’s a magpie in my brain

That wants to stay put.

Sometimes I force her out

Through the whites of my eyes

And then and only then

Do I see the future,

Burning.


I've Always Loved You, 2019

Gouache and graphite on paper

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All images other than author photos and artist artwork ©Matthew Batt 2020