Spar of the eye, rocket of the plaything
The curve of white dandelions releasing
Blue a winter pleasing
Curl of the queer soft twist
Spoke of the gentle swing of my soft eye
All is in the swirl of my eye arcing
The wrist of the old man swiftly
The burr of sharp girls in the city quickly
The red of the red lights frankly
Onto the spindle of my lid
Onto the spoor of my sight
In among the tractable fold of the retina
Look from the side and see clearer than frontwise
All is all in the halfway sprawl of my sideways eyes.
St-Lambert, circa 1983.