Eyes:

By William Matthews 1942–1997 William Matthews

the only parts of the body the same

size at birth as they’ll always be.

“That’s why all babies are beautiful,”

Thurber used to say as he grew

blind—not dark, he’d go on

to explain, but floating in a pale

light always, a kind of candlelit

murk from a sourceless light.

He needed dark to see:

for a while he drew on black

paper with white pastel chalk

but it grew worse. Light bored

into his eyes but where did it go?

Into a sea of phosphenes,

along the wet fuse of some dead

nerve, it hid everywhere and couldn’t

be found. I’ve used up

three guesses, all of them

right. It’s like scuba diving, going down

into the black cone-tip that dives

farther than I can, though I dive

closer all the time.

William Matthews, “Eyes:” from Selected Poems and Translations, 1969-1991. Copyright © 1992 by William Matthews. Reprinted with the permission of Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved, www.houghtonmifflinbooks.com.

Source: Selected Poems and Translations 1969-1991 (Little Brown and Company, 1992)

Biography

William Matthews's poetry has earned him a reputation as a master of well-turned phrases, wise sayings, and rich metaphors. Much of Matthews's poetry explores the themes of life cycles, the passage of time, and the nature of human consciousness. In another type of poem, he focuses on his particular enthusiasms: jazz music, basketball, and his children. His early writing was free-form and epigrammatic. As his career has . . .

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