Dust (Edit)

[gruff]

Ten decades of occasions,                                 << Is "Ten" important here? If not, perhaps something less specific might be better - but I feel it might be and I've missed something.
at the same blunt edge.
 
I tip forward–                                                       << "blunt edge" into "I tip" I like here, it's an evocative contrast
My breath thins, and hands freeze.
Your Face, Mirrored in the rivers black               << I'm not certain the capitals for Face and Mirrored really add, and "black" seems a little too dark - maybe there's better that allows for a little light to "mirror"? Also, should rivers be possessive? "river's"
early enough to practice the break.                    << Overall though, this stanza is quite haunting - I'm not sure if the "mirrored face" is the narrators reflection, something/someone in the present reflected or a ghost/memory - and I like the ambiguity. If anywhere, "early enough" in the last line is where I struggle a little: "practice the break", seems to works well though - maybe trying to pull away from the image and still being hard after so many tries.
 
Maybe a hundred times more,                     
And I go blind–                                                    << This is sharp and I like it; as if the narrator simply doesn't want the previous experience any more, but is (almost, but resisting) becoming accustomed to it?                                            
 
Every step is calculated.
It’s the evening that decides–
While I slipe of the edge.                                << This last stanza is where I struggle the most. I'm not sure "slipe of" works - should it be, e.g. "slide off" or is it perhaps leaning into some vocabulary I'm missing? Either way, perhaps the evening taking some decisive action to force the "slipe/slide", rather than just deciding, might work well.


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Ten decades of occasions at the same dull edge,

One hundred times more and I swear.

I lean forward.

I hold on.

I resist.

I let go.

Every step is routine.

the evening decides —
It settles like dust,

all over.



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One hundred times at the same edge 
One hundred times more and I swear
I lean forward 
I hold on 
I resist 
I let go
Every step is routine 
The evening decides 
Like dust 
It’s all over 




—-




This is the first poem I ever wrote, and it’s quite personal, so please be harsh. Changed it a few times, still not happy.

Hello Roggen,

I'm new to the forum and not sure if you're still revising this one or not, but I wanted to leave some thoughts and try my hand at critique. Overall, I thought there was some nice ideas and enjoyed the read. In the comments above I've tried to highlight the lines that worked well for me and where I tripped a little: all were made reading just the latest revision.

Looking back at the previous posts, I feel the tone has changed a bit, with some sense of mild anger/frustration in the former revisions that I didn't get from the latest - whether that's preferred or not, I'll leave to you, either could work depending on what you want to convey.

Anyway, feel free to critique my critique, or dismiss, as you see fit, but hopefully the perspective is in someway useful.

Regards
gruff