(work toward a poem)
“…during each saccade, the eyes move as fast as they can…”
This much is true
NO2 aluminum bulbs
broken cycle spokes
glottal stop frost dew
bowling bowl lawn fall
And you, you metallic
standing there gluing
felt scraps & glitter
to flute, recorder
& zither while
You on the other hand you
and your BB-packed hands
your ball bearing’d whiffle ball bat
yer thinking boy’s embarrassment
where if the stress fits, wear it
oh you’ll weld wrists won’t you
And you, with sun in your nose
and flashlight glow-blood hands
same as noon on green-scum ponds
same as midnight canvas camp tents
in which radiant skin stretched taut
atop bruise of ochre violet rose punched
deep and high into the side of my bicep
*
“When scanning the scene in front of you
or reading these words right now,
your eyes make jerky saccadic
movements and your eyes stop
several times, moving very quickly
between each stop. We can not [sic]
consciously control the speed of
movement between stops and
during each saccade, the eyes
move as fast as they can.”