Good poetry has something of the surreal to it. At least that's what I've been told and it's something I don't have enough of. You have it in spades but use it in such a way that it doesn't draw attention to itself. In fact, it wasn't until I read your poem about the cool blue of 5th and main (apologies, forgot the title) that I even noticed how much you use it. Sometimes less, sometimes more.
This one, with descriptions "full of October," and "pumpkin breeze..." I feel like is the perfect amount. The words have energy to spare but hold back, never adding anything unnecessary. Just like that all-out-edges-burning sun waiting to be born.
It's the beautiful use of language that make things that could seem mundane... in your hands the beauty of simplicity is apparent and meaningful where someone else might try to force it.
A woman's hair blew in the breeze, is basically all that is happening plot-wise in this poem... but you make it mean so much more.
I'll admit, I copied and pasted your poem because my browser is set to can't-re-read-the-piece-without-endless-scrolling and I need to see it, like looking at a photograph while trying to sketch it - you need to see it. You need to be looking.
And what a sight it is to see. I love your turn of phrase and the originality it turns my head on its axis to appreciate. If you could bottle whatever it is that allowed these words and these visceral images to be painted so beautifully, it wouldn't be enough because snapshot poetry (more visual than word-y) cannot be contained, it can only be experienced with open souls, tabula rasa eyes and a sigh that is a reader's thank you to a talented author.
There are some kinds of poetry that really attract me, and the elements they have in common is that they are short, they waste no words, and they go out of the ordinary. I like how you start here, making the first line a continuation of the title. It kinda jerks the reader, says "listen up":
"it was monday
and her hair, full of october,
curled in a pumpkin breeze. "
This is so lovely. Like I said, it isn't too wordy...sometimes we get too carried away with descriptions. But the words you have used here are perfect. All colored in the rich hues of fall. You have not mentioned wind at all, but I picture the fall wind blowing reddish hair into a curl, maybe add a leaf or two blowing by. Now, I like the fact that the next line does not begin with a capital letter, like one would expect. The unexpected is so tasty in poetry.
"it smelled of bees, heartache,
and some kind of uncommon. "
This is like saying, she's going through something thats almost too complicated to really talk about, yet so simple that it happened. But yet again you try to talk about it, parentheses in the finale:
"(like an all-out-burning-edges-sun
waiting to be born)"