All the Eyes of Eye are walking through the markets
performing a dismounting dance from buses
onto sidewalks
crossing street lights erratically
diagonally tracing their feet over a surface not as impressionable as sand
their gravity given weight: leaving little trace behind

...
The eyes of eye
are born one day, burgeon and transmute
and more eyes open
like lilies replenishing: the eternal spring of consciousness
Each pair of eyes is the Eye
...
It is late now but I have gathered my keys, put on a coat and walked to the corner store to buy Chamomile tea. I close my eyes and feel the cold breeze. One. One other person is walking far off in the distance down the same street as me. I see recognize them and whisper to myself “eyes are I”
...
Her eyes are the same color as mine. You could say she gave them to me–my eyes. I move through the world with them.