Poem Aerogel A Quintain
Liquid to gas at temperatures so high That phase-distinctions blur and leave it there In place, that fine-wrought microscale array Of lattices the cosmic dust streams through To layer three, then rests in aerogel. A sense conundrum: blue as Summer sky Yet hazy, thin, impalpable, a clair- Obscur of dreamy stuff some latter-day Tech-savvy alchemist might think to brew Or strange sea-beast secrete within its shell. So many wondrous uses they apply This nearly-nothing to, this light-as-air Material poised to throw off matter’s sway And do as middle spirits used to do, From Puck and Ariel to Tinkerbell....