first off, big thank you for the feedback you gave elsewhere. 
after reading the piece a couple of times i found it to be a little too wordy remove what words you can and leave the bare bones. it will make for a stronger poem [only a suggestion though].
an example would be something line of [last stanza]
I know that the love of sere grass, of smoothing snow, of emerald waves
Each exist of themselves.
I know too that they help create each to each other,
The now/old love pouring into the next/now new love.
The earth goes round and round,
And you and I we have a destination,
And what does this change?
Changes that do not repeat are felt more the miraculous.
just some suggestions. you can do more or less or leave as is. i think the same can be done throughout the poem to good effect.
after reading the piece a couple of times i found it to be a little too wordy remove what words you can and leave the bare bones. it will make for a stronger poem [only a suggestion though].
an example would be something line of [last stanza]
I know that the love of sere grass, of smoothing snow, of emerald waves
Each exist of themselves.
I know too that they help create each to each other,
The now/old love pouring into the next/now new love.
The earth goes round and round,
And you and I we have a destination,
And what does this change?
Changes that do not repeat are felt more the miraculous.
just some suggestions. you can do more or less or leave as is. i think the same can be done throughout the poem to good effect.
(12-11-2019, 01:09 PM)Vikiirna Wrote: I
I love your body the way I love wheat fields through the seasons,
The landscape of my commute
Bringing both delight and glad wonder that there should still be delight.
When the repeating unique angles of the sun, through hours, through months, matter
To let me not forget how much there is to love.
Smooth and rough growths play their different games together in the same light,
Being the ebb and flow of each other,
companions in refraction.
My eyes cannot hold it all.
Is the overflowing of my senses creating the current,
The draw that will not let me go?
The impossibility of perfect knowledge the vacuum that sucks me in?
II
The hidden daily lives and deaths in air, in grass, in soil,
The streams that pulse and will not pause,
(So I must think of when I’m not thinking of them)
What can they teach me of the struggles of the cells of your body and soul?
Is this then faith?
III
I know that the love of sere grass, of smoothing snow, of emerald waves
Each exist of themselves.
I know too that they help create each to each other,
The now/old love pouring into the next/now love.
The earth goes round and round,
And you and I have a destination,
And what does this change?
Changes that do not repeat are felt more the miraculous.