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The poem "I've seen a dying eye" fascinates me, because I have one good eye and one bad eye. XV page 93

Out of the "bad" eye--everyone looks (or looked) like a Monet. Everyone.
In that "bad" eye,
everyone and every color is melted and beautifully so.

And then there was my "good" eye.

And in that eye, "concrete" was just concrete.

Ah but in my "bad" eye concrete really added a depth to all the colors--especially in winter.

Most people my age were told a lot about what Emily really was referring to in much of her poetry; and most of it was garbage.
Emily didn't right about the Obscure; she was a human laser of a writer.

Just like in that poem where she describes that bad eye as going from bad to a fog...or cloudy to a fog--my eye did the exact same thing.

My bad eye went from cloudy to fog;
(and only that eye)

...but till the day I die I'll be grateful for all those years when everyone on earth was a Monet.

Always.

In that "bad" eye---the earth was astonishingly beautiful.

That mini-mall, closed and choked by a sea of a parking lot---was an amazing sight in a summer's rain after dusk, even poorly lit by lights. My left eye smeared that mini-mall into art.
Breathtaking.

My right eye never saw what neon smeared on concrete looks like from such a lense.

This poet unlike any other is the Queen of distillation.

She whittled everything, every observation down to the most pristine and concise essence--that she is absolutely a master unlike any other poet in the world.