In my ongoing quest to find better words to describe my failing vision and diseased eyes, I want to memorize several poems about vision. The inspiration for this specific iteration of the theme is a line from the final bird poem I memorized, Donika Kelly’s “Perhaps You Tire of the Birds”: “O, my scouring eye that scrubs clean the sky and blossomed tree.”
- Before I got my eye put out/ Emily Dickinson
- Natural Forces/ Vicente Huidobro
- I Look Up from My Book and Out at the World through Reading Glasses/ Diane Seuss
- Halos/ Ed Bok Lee
July 2nd-July 31st