It is all too much. My mind, off to anywhere peaceful, anchors down upon the flower-thick sky.WASP-121b’s titanium rainsfall fast and hard, down and in.How fast do its ripping windscurl back to the beginning?Can I exist in every space of my owntidally-locked becoming,a calm oasis from extremesturbulent and beautiful?The water splits apart, arid,the soul has … Continue reading Now