Bus Stop
#1
Darker
than the iris
February spoke
in knots ‘round the night.

Snowflakes fall
into the arms of a street light
becoming fluorescent and orange
becoming embers
for a moment.

The metal bodies
of buses and cars
cackle, burn oil
and pass.

Cold cheek of the year turning,
soon, soon, all feet will be washed
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#2
Darker
than the iris
February spoke
in knots ‘round the night.


I guess the eye-iris and maybe the flower-iris?

February, in winter in the places where I am, is a fair moment of moments of dilating sensations, feelings. Play on maybe changings. 

Snowflakes fall
into the arms of a street light

The broad, at least in the vicinity, authority and sanity of the occasion. Comforting ARMS. Forming a real thing. 


becoming fluorescent and orange
becoming embers
for a moment.


Fragility, and perhaps triteness, becoming, in the insecurity of the current emotion, bold, and, important in the sad insignificance of importance, the warming orange fluorescence provides.
A hint of a more significant warmth and connection. 




The metal bodies
of buses and cars
cackle, burn oil


Those cackling warlocks of modernity, the only Modern/current we get to live in. 


and pass.

Cold cheek of the year turning,
soon, soon, all feet will be washed

And no period. A decimal of hope. 




I'm no good at critiques. 
Are you ok with a commentary? 
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#3
(12-26-2021, 04:42 PM)Miley Wrote:  Darker
than the iris This is a solid opening.
February spoke
in knots ‘round the night. I'm not sure what speaking in knots around the night means and it isn't tangible enough to make me feel something either. It should provide at least one of the two (meaning or feeling).

Snowflakes fall
into the arms of a street light
becoming fluorescent and orange
becoming embers I don't know if you need "becoming" twice, could cut this one.
for a moment.

The metal bodies
of buses and cars
cackle, burn oil
and pass. I like this, it is simple and real.

Cold cheek of the year turning, The beginning of this line and the preceeding stanza seem a little disjointed - maybe could connect them by adding something like "turning in the exhaust"? 
soon, soon, all feet will be washed The end is a little underwhelming to me - weaker than the previous stanza, although I always struggle with endings in poems.

Thanks for sharing - to me, the middle two stanzas are the heart of the poem, images of a bus stop at night that evoke feeling, I want more of that.
"A hippopotamus is just a really cool opatamus."
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