Out of the blue poetry

I've been writing some poetry lately. I dunno where it's coming from because I'm not trying to write poems; they just keep appearing in my notebooks. This blog is the closest thing I have to a workshop right now, so help me out. These are rough drafts. If you don't like them, rip them apart, just tell me why. And if you think they're decent, great, but again, tell me why.

Jet Stream
7/22/10

It was a subtle change,
but the daylight looks so strange today.
The window gleams with golden pane.
The wheat fields bow with golden waves.
The sky is such a crystal blue
my godless eyes might pierce it through.
You sly trick mirror, you fox-begotten shroud!
What happened to my heart-shaped cloud?
My ice lamps sputtered and died in your jet stream.
You rained them down soft, then harder—
like static on an old TV,
shook out and hung to dry across your harbor.

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The World Is Too Sharp Through A Glass
7/17/10

The world is too sharp through a glass.
There’s no slanting, no spin: it lets the bright
and ugly in
just the same.

The world is too sharp through a glass.
There’s no blur, no spin; washing out the whites
is sure to wash the scarlet in.

The world is too sharp through a glass.
The light cuts through the curve, a saber
to the eye,
jousting with the colors, fencing with
the lines.

Whiskey-wash your thoughts down,
dull your head.
Leave the lenses on the stand beside your bed.

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In particular I've been struggling with the line breaks for both of these. I resist end-rhyming, but Jet Stream seemed awkward without that structure, yet somehow seems awkward with it as well. And the breaks in The World Is Too Sharp, I don't know, just seemed too arbitrary to justify. Thoughts?

Peace, love and H2O,
Miss Rex