Another in my series (?) of poems about phenomenologists.
Merleau-Ponty’s Ocular Body
In the De Anima:
Imagine that the eye were a whole organism—
Then sight would be its soul.
A good enough illustration, I suppose,
But then you read Merleau-Ponty,
You watch him strain to see, see,
To see with his entire body, his integral being,
And you do not have to imagine anything:
Sight is his soul.