What I mostly think about is how the world got to be the way it is.
– Leonard Susskind, “The Landscape,” 2003
Willow, willow, o’the wisp again,
Sorrow, oh, t’wIll all win well at end.
– William Harris, “Poems from My World,” undated
Dr. Harris –
I was sitting at my computer reading about string theory and the landscape of infinitely possible pocket universes when the name Buzzy Cornfield popped into my mind. I thought it sounded like a good name for a character in a story. What to do next? Google it, of course. And there they are, your buzzy boys chirping in the cornfield. They opened up one of those pocket universes for me, and I lived in the poem for awhile listening to oboe music.
. . .
Plants that grow in the sun have cool mornings too,
When the morning is heavy on the hills and dew sprays
Back to the sky. Underneath each leaf
We lie to rest, see the giant window panes
Of green embroideries, and hear the buzzy boys
Chirp in the cornfield. Their little violins
Saw in perfection.
. . .
As for Smolin’s speculations about the evolution of the universe, let me say that almost all cosmologists would agree that the universe is reproducing.
Update 30 August 2008: Dr. Harris never did respond to my email.