The Aquarius Project is a large-scale collaborative programme of the Virgo Consortium, similar in scope and scale to theMillennium Simulation project. At present, the principal set of Aquarius simulations contains six examples of an isolated halo similar in mass to that of the Milky Way. These are simulated in their full cosmological context (assuming the concordance LCDM cosmology) and at various resolutions up to about 200 million particles (counted within the radius where the enclosed density is 200 times the cosmic mean). One halo is also simulated at even higher resolution, resulting in almost 1.5 billion particles within this radius. These simulations are being used to understand the fine-scale structure predicted around the Milky Way by the standard structure formation model, and as the basis for simulation by various techniques of the growth of the stellar components of our Galaxy.
I try to enter god through breathing.
I try to resurrect the dead through
gesture. I try to disconnect the endless loop.
I think about what she said
and try to do as she said: keep a space.
Maybe that’s what this is:
a 3-hour donut, an all-expense paid trip
to Awake Island. I am not laying my head
under a storm of bullets. My limbs are not held taut
in traction. I am lying awake beside my love
but his breathing is labored by asthma.
He should see someone for it. Is that my son I hear
killing pixels and brain cells at this hour?
Is the moonlight entering our room
at a different angle now that the tree is gone?
Since men have climbed down from them, they’ve climbed in,
not just as children, for the look-out leaf
enclosure, height, or grandeur’s branched origin.
Beside sequoias, our own lives are brief,
our needs for fruit or wood cultivated
on such slow movement, such a rooted claim
to be so here so now, so situated,
extending growth in circled, mute xylem.
It stood, the ash, too this, too that, between
our neighbors’ house and ours, enormously
resplendent, shading us through summers, green
as being, even greener, but less free.
For when we said when, when it was, and then
in came the truck and up the ladders climbed the men.
Shift the green frame, and the rest can ease.
Tip the gold, and the blue seems to open.
How long would you give to the solution?
While one man’s son dies of an embolism,
the fig opens its first leaf. You want it to work
out, that instant of falling, of catching, of colors
ordered by frequency or mneumonic.
You want the proof: you can reason.
The neighbor’s voice is louder as he grows deafer.
The ash tree must come down.
Beside your bed, the bright bands of color beckon.
Click the violet to one side, a chamber is revealed.
Brute force is worthless. Were you to take a hammer
to the challenge, shatter the whole, throw the board,
call it all a ridiculous waste of time, you’d be a baby beaten
by a toy, a baboon baffled by art. We are evolved,
you want to shout. Evolved. You want to shout it to
the termites undermining the bottom step,
to the scoundrel your daughter has taken up with.
The red link falls loose, there’s air
where there wasn’t before, there’s play.
Escape is easier than engagement nearly always.
Ask anyone with wheels.
For who would stay with perfect attention,
for who deems perfection, who strives ever & ever, who?
A glass shelved etagere for tacky souvenirs,
A stack of sent postcards with canceled stamps from elsewhere,
each with its cursive wish, whish, wish: tides of wish
& wonder better than bulletins from the front.
Who was the child battled over & laid before
the plow-blade to divide the mother from the fraud?
Who was the mythic man following the boulder
down the hill, gathering energy like a pendulum?
He may think he chooses his role in perpetuity;
the boulder has greater agency.
Guess & guess again. It’s right to be wrong. Guess
& guess again. You can learn even if you can’t
be beautiful again. Where are you in the drama?
You claim center, even as the lines
are audible off-stage.
I'm a poet, writer, & teacher living along the river in West County, raising a family, and doing my thing.