Stark Contrast (was Stark) rev #4.

[REW]

Hi,

I like your build up of contrasts with the damage caused by the scorching heat to the surprise of the refreshing stream.  I noticed that you are capitalizing each line of poetry.  I am under the understanding that this is not an ideal practice.  Capitalizing the start of the stanza or along grammatical constructions might be a better choice.  I also noted many uses of infinitives (ing).  I am under the impression that use of infinitives do not work well in poetry.  I made some edit suggestions to your piece accordingly.  I think your title could use a little more.  I am not sure just the word stark suits the poem as a title.  Perhaps Stark Contrast? 

There was a previous comment about a reader not understanding the ending.  I think I understand the marvel of this stream coming from within, a surprise from the planet's inner secrets so to speak.  I feel a little romance there and am going to suggest a little along those lines, a romantic reverence for Earth who provided this stream.  There are many great descriptive details in this.  I could feel the heat  

[comment:  it's been a long while.  Please be gentle but I know I need the feedback]

The bright black pavement bakes back silent heat,
Pulling pulls reluctant drops of sweat
Which drip impotently down,
Drying and leaving its salt on the ground.

The sun has left dried pathos --
The remains of a worm, now a hollow brown
Stick between paving stones;  glued
To the pavement by its desiccated mucous. (I think you can do without the extra description here).

Rare, humid winds sometimes move toasted
Pine needles in the sandy lot, the roasting
Heat only stirred.  Everything
Is an afterimage of itself, radiantly shining. I think your choice of radiantly shining here is problematic as radiant implies something beautiful and wonderful while you are emphasizing the damage of the heat.

Nothing happens.  The motel fronts heavily I think you could cut this stanza as I don't feel it adds to the poem other than cause wonder
Curtained windows, colored in burnt umber as to why the narrator is not in there.
With oranges.  The window unit wearily
Labors in the darkened musty room.

A low low buzz, more sensed illusion than real 
Leads around the corner, and in the brush is revealed
The cicadas singing their coarse sibilant song singing cicadas are revealed
Defiantly hopeful, gathering ed around the hidden pond.

The light blue of the spring strikes you first is striking,
A shimmering clear decal stuck here against
all Expectations;  negating the starke (spelling of stark?) thirst
of the sand.  Plants, trees hide along the banks.

Although just a small boil, its shoulders
Define the relief of its banks well.  Sand (You already said sand.  Cold ripples?).
Dance in the water so much colder
Than expected, tickle your hand. (You already used expectations in your previous stanza).

There is a depth here you can just barely sense, 
But cannot see or measure.
It comes upward while it connects
To and from the greater whole.