I trod the clodded furrows of the field I grew up in,
considering the life of maize
and I encounter x.

Stretching her arms
she cracks the earthen expanse
with her sophisticated boots
and returns my gaze.

She brings esoteric modern incantations
volumes bound in processed sheaths of gloss
but doesn’t care for any spells
and her apathy captures my attraction.

Under a washed out sun, bleeding light
she lends her eyes as a mirror
and releases me of my early morning struggles
as I understand hers.

I see her own unsmiling orbs
her frowning nose
and blank mouth
a countenance void of language.
Through introspective wisdom, its empathetic beat
I undress her.

Her rhythms relieve the fields of their fauna
and we are simply people under light.

I embrace x and we made love
built it in the yellow kernals of maize
in the returning field
we faced our exposed skin
with unburdened lips
learned the intimate facets that make people
and retreated to the pod of our solution.

-------------------------
This is the revision of a previous version of this poem that got a little dark in its use of language so its somewhat incomplete. If there is anything you like or really despise let me know.

your first line ends in a preposition. thats really it. otherwise it is groovy.

The first line lacks efficency but I felt I needed to push the 'fields I grew up in' line in as at it is sort of relevent to my thoughts and the sort of place I am trying to make. I editted the poem to be shorter, now reads:

I trod the clodded furrows of the field I grew up in,
considering the life of maize
and I encounter x.

Stretching her arms
she cracks the earthen expanse
with her sophisticated boots
and returns my gaze.

She brings esoteric modern incantations
volumes bound in processed sheaths of gloss
but doesn’t care for any spells
and her apathy captures my attraction.

Under a washed out sun, bleeding light
she lends her eyes as a mirror
and releases me of my early morning struggles
as I understand hers.

I see her own unsmiling orbs
her frowning nose
and blank mouth
a countenance void of language.
Through introspective wisdom, its empathetic beat
I undress her.

Her rhythms relieve the fields of their fauna
and we are simply people under light.

--
Any thoughts on the title-Reverie of an Unknown Muse. I love the word 'reverie' -- its exact yet short. I don't so much like the length rest of the title though. I considered 'Reverie' alone but it seems too short and abstract.