“From this distance, we take the measure of the stars’ sharp edges, feel the cuts of their cold light,” Frank wrote in a tiny essay from Double Moon, a collaboration with Margo. “But up among them, what would we find? Loud bags of gas, light not so much around us but within us. And nothing. Lots more nothing than we are able to account for. Does this scare you? Not me. It is from this nothing that the stuff of our lives must be made.”