Ezekiel Dean's "Glass Eyes" is about a speaker who can't stop thinking about another person, and especially about their eyes. Lying awake in a "restless haze," the speaker pictures a gaze that feels exceptional, with eyes of "purest blue glass." The image of glass, and the idea of being cast from a "perfectionist's mold," makes the person seem flawless but also a little remote, like something beautiful behind a window. You can look at it, but you can't quite get in.
That gap drives the poem. The speaker's mind "spins circles," unsure what to say or do, and keeps circling back to one question: how can I ever know you as well as I want to? The last three lines build on that wish, ending with the hope of knowing someone "as well as if we were one and the same." The mood is restless and wistful, a mix of admiration, nervousness and deep yearning for closeness.