Tag Archives: Space

Astrophysics for People in a Hurry (Book Review)

All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.

Astrophysics for People in a Hurry by Neil deGrasse Tyson was simplified enough that I could almost begin to fathom parts of it. The grand scale of the universe or multiverse or whatever hugeness is out there seems like a great imaginary tale. My little, tiny reality does not mesh with the vastness of trillions of miles as a measurement or billions of galaxies, our Milky Way being only one little spiral among many. Tyson says scientists think the gigantic, galactic, humongous universe, as we know it, was at one time smaller than one-trillionth the size of the period at the end of this sentence. It might as well be a magical fairy tale.

Some fascinating science-y things I learned:

  • Helium was detected in the sun’s corona in the 1800s before it was ever discovered on Earth.
  • Planets don’t really fly through space orbiting the sun but are carried across the fabric of space-time.
  • Iridium is the densest element we know of—2 cubic feet of it weighs as much as a car.
  • Pluto is not a planet. I have finally released my hold on the poor thing. It turns out, this mistake has been made before. Two other “planets” were discovered in the 1800s named Ceres and Pallas. We eventually figured out they were asteroids and now know Pluto is a comet. Sigh. I think we hung on so long because it was the first planet discovered by an American.
  • About 1,000 tons of Martian rocks rain down on earth each year. Possibly a similar amount reaches us from our Moon. When meteors and asteroids hit them, they send debris flying our way. When we pick up a rock and put it in our pocket, it could be from Mars or the Moon.

Tyson, Neil deGrasse, Astrophysics for People in a Hurry, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2017.

You Ever Wonder?

You ever wonder how we keep from flying off this giant muffin when it’s going over 60,000 miles an hour? Like, a spaceship made of dirt and water, it’s outer skin nothing more than a layer of air holding all us guts in while screaming through space at 60,000 miles an hour. And any second another chunk of rock could slam into our bowling ball hot air balloon and we could shoot off like fireworks spraying out of a soda bottle at 60,000 miles an hour. Unless we’re more like a frisbee ‘cause we’re flat earthers and this giant paper plate planet is flinging and boomeranging around the sun at 60,000 miles an hour. Maybe the whole way to survive in this solar system is to keep moving as fast as you can, ‘cause if we stop, we die, and nobody wants to die, well, some people want to die, but not like that in a crash going 60,000 miles an hour. And think about it, these doctors are trying to slow us down with all these meds, making us walk around like zombies eating our own brains, drooling in our sleep, and slurring our speech ‘cause that’s supposedly better somehow, even though they should be smart enough to know that we have to keep the wheel spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning at least 60,000 miles an hour, or we’ll screech to a halt and scream forever like that Munch painting where the squiggledy guy is slapping both hands on his face like the Home Alone kid all because Krakatoa blew and burned and bled.

Space Library

(Poem 351 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/7DkZgi

Reading books in a space library,
unburdened by insignificant
things like gravity or air,
makes for a floating good time.

No day or night means
reading as long as the story
calls for, the library is open,
and the coffee or tea is flowing.

Of course, no one can hear
the laughter that spills over
from the funny parts because
there’s no sound in space.

And if a particularly poignant
part wrenches unbidden tears
from weary eyes, they are unable
to fall; there’s no crying in space.

@Home Studio – 351st poem of the year

Runner ups for the Space Library photos to accompany my poem:

Space Singing

(Poem 309 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/g5Q0Ky

It always starts with humming
a tune or whistling a little ditty.

Then she gets caught up in her
own musicality and can’t help
but start belting out a few show-
tunes and catchy pop numbers.

Before you know it, others have
joined in with their makeshift
instruments and attempts at
harmony, creating spontaneous
improvisational magic, the likes
of which might not be heard
again for a billion years or more.

@Home Studio – 309th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Space Singing photos to accompany my poem:

Space Playing

(Poem 308 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/528C4e

Once every few million
years or so, space
likes to be silly and play
her version of Mother-
may-I with the stars
and planets, laughing
until she’s out of breath
and needs a millennium
to get herself right again.

@Home Studio – 308th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Space Playing photos to accompany my poem:

Celestial Body

(Poem 282 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/uh52gb

Her celestial body
is draped
in gossamer galaxies
and lacy luminosities
with flecks of infinite
cosmic dust
and gauzy strands
of nebulae birthing
baby stars.

Her swaying form
catapults asteroids
across the billowy
folds of organza
and satin,
hurtling dark matter
across crests
of supernovae,
bespeckling interstellar silk.

@Home Studio – 282nd poem of the year

Plasma Blobs

(Poem 269 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/OvDj2h

Plasma is rare
on earth,
though found
in abundance
everywhere else
in space.
And now scientists
are telling us
that these blobs
that are not solid,
liquid, or gas,
but another state:
communicate,
behave predatorially,
congregate,
interact with satellites,
get the zoomies,
race excitedly
toward thunderstorms,
form crystals—
corkscrew shaped
like DNA,
and may be inorganic
non-biological life
or pre-life,
and we’re supposed
to go on sipping our tea
and paying our bills.

@Home Studio – 269th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Plasma photos to accompany my poem:

UFO

(Poem 234 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/6xE6e6 (It looked like this, but triangular shaped.)

Nearing dusk in the
falling in love time
of year when we said
our goodbyes longer
than was necessary,
a UFO floated above,
slowly, gracefully, for
a machine so large,
its triangular shape
at once distinct and
completely unclear.

The size of a city block,
it made no sound,
shone no lights, nor
revealed exhaust,
but simply hovered
like a kite out for a
leisurely jaunt taking
a moment to survey
the neighborhood
from the best vantage
point in the clear sky.

My lover and I pointed
heavenward in awe and
disbelief, unsure of the
images our eyes relayed
to our brains, unable to
fully process a craft of
solid black smoothness
suspended in disbelief
as gently as a cloud,
then race north and out
of sight like a memory.

@Home Studio – 234th poem of the year (David and I saw a UFO one evening in 2013 or 2014, when we were still dating.)

Power Source

(Poem 160 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/3BaiVe

At the center of the universe
is a sunflower that radiates
beautiful, perpetual energy—
spirals and sparks, rays and
bolts, streams and streaks—
emanating every which way
from the black inflorescence.
Each petal bursts forth with
eternal seeds of galactic life,
bound for destinations pre-
determined by destiny’s map.

@Home Studio – 160th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Power Source photos to accompany my poem:

Venus Car

(Poem 135 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photographs taken by Rebekah J. Marshall 5/3/24

What in the world
kind of space-age
contraption is this?
Not found on a
movie set or at a
Comicon convention,
a float in a parade
or on display in a
futuristic museum.
No, just sitting pretty
in an HEB parking
lot like it’s waiting
for its alien pilot
to finish grocery
shopping and climb
back in before lifting
off to start the long
flight home to Venus.  

@Home Studio – 135th poem of the year