In Love and the Eye there is no world, only images of a world holding so fast to us we are more nature than human, more landscape than flesh. The gaze gets lost in “a cloud coming,” a stick becomes a leg. There is a delicate elegance in the shifting gaze of these poems. One leans into the beauty of this collection because of all the ways it does not settle down, because of all the ways it insists on seeing.

—Claudia Rankine