Prose poems and vignettes inspired by paint samples and their names.   Planetarium By Zach Barnes I remember sitting with my grandfather, looking up at the starry ceiling while the presenter talked. My grandfather would lean over and point out things to me, showing me nebula, galaxies and black holes represented by twinkling lights, or the lack of. But I wasn’t really listening. I wasn’t even in the theater. I was out there already. Floating weightless, looking out the viewport. Eating a freeze-dried ice cream sandwich my grandfather bought me, sweet but crispy, the new texture interesting and repulsing me at the same time. Touching the viewport window and imagining the cold of interstellar space chilling my hand. Turning as the radio squawks and…