Of ‘Three Quarks for Muster Mark’

(from Finnegans Wake, James Joyce)

Behold, the Big Bang Creation.
Behind opaque ion veils, dancing
strings curled in an uncertain eleven dimensions,
unobservable, squished up, tumbling
together, then inflating, become a fiery froth
free of the churning unknowable past
rushing  into the infinite void,
time begins and in dimensions three,
the great Higgs, the Quarks with Gluons galore
and all other kinds of massy gore appear:
Fermi-onic nucleons, Hydronic  mesons, all flavors, and chromaticities;
wild clusters of Anyions  (Charmed or Strange) and all the anti players.

The Universe happens then, in a swosh.
Tiny Leptons rushing from Fermions
at light speed, Tachyons grandly push
even faster, never seen again, while Bosons
so slow, coalesce into infinite galaxies
with black holes, and WIMPS  holding  together
all the heaven’s time lines, all our felicities
expanding through warped geodesics for ever.

Kent Bowker                11 December 2011

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