space station

Space: A poem

dear you i have escaped the gravity of our world the thrusters are no longer firing i depend on the word of other men who linger in dark rooms twirling pencils atop arcane calculations watching my ship ascend to the stars   there is no seattle in space vacant skies
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Kiwi’s big adventure: A poem

     I am Kiwi, and I love the way I roll.  You think I’m a silent runner and droll. Yeah, the box robot made for tater tots. Your tiny food delivery.     But I am Kiwi! The corgis have nothing on me. I stop you in your tracks, and you
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Editors’ Note: Mar. 4

Science, fiction or otherwise

This week, the Weekender takes an intergalactic journey, exploring everything from the latest trends in science fiction to research in astrophysics.
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