Every line of this short poem begins with the same two words, "to see," and that repetition feels like a habit of mind: the speaker keeps turning his gaze on himself, trying to get a clear look. What he finds is not flattering. He begins with "what little I am," then moves to an "absent satisfaction / close to the dirt," a picture of a life that feels low, earthbound and unfulfilled.
The middle of the poem shifts to machines. The speaker looks "inside a machine" and admires "how fine the machines are," as if the human body, or the mind, might be understood the same way, as parts working together. Yet he also asks what makes "a man himself," and the poem doesn't answer.
The ending is the sharpest moment. He sees himself "wanting like a bad king / to possess death." It's a bleak, almost greedy image: a ruler who wants to own the one thing no one can control. The mood is quiet, honest and unsettled, with humility turning into something darker.