“Of Course, She Must Be Sleeping, Sleeping Deeply, Wrapped In The Darkness Of That Strange Little World

Flying like a fish out of water

Sea levels rising as the earth gets hotter

I think this weekend I’ll go on an alcohol bender

But at least drinks are free when you’re the bartender.

Laika's still up there. not her body, sure, but her soul is. i saw it through my telescope one night when i was looking for aliens. she was sniffing for table scraps under saturn's ring. she chases comets and bites down on satellites. i saw her napping by neptune, she was kicking her feet. passing through the oort cloud is like the stroke of a hand on her fur. eyes like marbles and four little paws like flames. she bobs through jupiter's moons like cold moscow streets. up there the stars are a great big field. and look, she's running so fast. god damn, look at her go.

Design

by Robert Frost

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white, On a white heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth -- Assorted characters of death and blight Mixed ready to begin the morning right, Like the ingredients of a witches' broth -- A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth, And dead wings carried like a paper kite.

What had that flower to do with being white, The wayside blue and innocent heal-all? What brought the kindred spider to that height, Then steered the white moth thither in the night? What but design of darkness to appall? -- If design govern in a thing so small.

Ohio Total Solar Eclipse

I think this weekend I’ll go on an alcohol bender

But at least drinks are free when you’re the bartender.

Pittsburgh Daily Post, Pennsylvania, February 20, 1927

The people I love are the workers of my heart. They rebuild a heart they did not break from a house of ashes to a skyscraper ruling over the whole world.

- The Short Poem Series by Royla Paula Rădița Asghar

Sappho, tr. by Anne Carson, from “If Not Winter: Fragments of Sappho,” (x)

Circe Invidiosa by John William Waterhouse (1892)