Star-Reader

StoryWeaver13 wrote:I count the distance as you count the stars, before me Very good first line, with plenty of intrigue.
mile-markers that glow in headlights, then you, mapping out
an ink-blot universe with only sparkling dustmites of potential doorways, While the phrasing is beautiful, this line breaks up the rhythm slightly. It might work better if you removed the "sparkling."
carried high by a Raven’s crooked wing, the same Raven who has swallowed If I were you I'd take out the "a."
the moon tonight. Yet the constellations keep you company. Strange, that
you somehow, strangely, miss me. And somehow, strangely,
I think I am almost capable of feeling the same. Good stanza, overall. Needs a little editing, but you have some really good imagery in here.

I hold my hand-stitched Indian doll to my chest the way I did
when I was little, when I did not know my ancestors were imaged of this
simple-made plaything of eyes of black crescent-moons and minute mouths,
that they followed stars the way you do, the Mother Bear and her playful Cub,
and the North-faced star that’s ever spangled the sky. No complaints here, a very nice concept!

I follow the road of an asphalt sort, one that guides me a single direction,
while you lay on your back and contemplate the corkscrewed spaces and pathways Again, this line breaks your rhtyhm slightly.
through the milky way, a puddly mess of liquid stars that pools through your open eyes.
The nebulas swim like salmon, reflecting a multitude of ingenious colors contorted by
lackluster scientific interpretation. I love the idea expressed here, and I agree- it says a lot for the human race that we need to classify everything.

And as I count the distance, you counting stars, I note
the melancholy likelihood of seeing you again while you perceive the Seems a little abrupt here.
chances that we have to obtain this dream. And I look out into the night, the sky
as dark as my doll’s ebony horsehair, see the wandering Ursus Major and spear-tip
of Orion’s arrow, their directions indecipherable to me and yet to you a sign, a million signs,
that there is order to the insanity, that there is more than us, much more, and yet the universe
still whispers you a promise that in all of this, we are not yet forgotten. Brilliant vocabularly, lovely imagery, but still needs a little work. I'm rushing the end of this review, as I have lessons now. Byee!