The Proverbs

The King Miltiades of Lydia in Asia Minor asked the wiseman Zoxis for a talisman that would gladden his heart when overly oppressed and make it grave in times of overweening exuberance and the sage responded by giving him a golden ring upon which were inscribed the words “This too will pass.”

Plato criticized any attempt to transcribe wisdom in books, because books, unlike men, cannot change their response based upon their interlocutor. Yet the talisman of Zoxis shows that this criticism, though it may be correctly leveled against books of the usual support, fails in its condemnation against other instances of writing. For example, Heraclitus had a mirror made of polished silver and above it inscribed αυτός ο άνθρωπος θα πεθάνει — This man will die.

Rabbi Bag Bag, one of the sages of blessed memory had a bell set over the house of study with a trip wire so that anybody who crossed the wire caused the bell to rang, whereupon the visitor would look up and see the form of an eye inscribed upon the metal of the bell and the words “Remember the eye above.”

The artist James Ensor formed a mobius strip made of the skin of his mother, who had lost a leg in an accident, and tatooed upon it “The one who comes is the same as the one who goes is the same…” and so the expression, looped back upon itself.

Li Po wrote the character for important as a tiny hair that could be mistaken for a smudge, growing out of the character for obvious. 中央明顯

A sage of Cambridge who does not wish me to divulge his identity wrote a program in LISP whereby an address would be made to each person based upon his name, inviting him not to throw love away.

There have been fragile sayings written on tough materials and tough saying written in smoke and in water.

Some have created phosphemes by pressing the thumb upon the closed eye and then straightaway devised a graphical dictionary where the phosphemes had meaning and the meaning was: repent. Others have done the same technique for the images of clouds, or the distinct smells arising from a pineapple tossed into a fire. In the first case the clouds said: behind the flow of thoughts remains the one true consciousness. The smells of the pineapple say: change your life, but first change your thought about what constitutes a change.

And when the smell of the burning pineapple mixed with the sea breeze the people did as they were told.


Not Buying “Bloodlands”

I wanted to read Bloodlands because I have an upcoming trip, but I have accumulated a lot of books over the pandemic and I thought I should inventory them first, and decide what I have that I want to read, and read that, before I buy and read Bloodlands. (Although I do want to read Bloodlands.). Here is the list of what I think I want to read first:

Martianus Capella and the Sevean Liberal Arts

Murder Ballads an dOther Legends by Bohuml Hrabal

Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism – Panofsky

The Age of Wire and STring – Ben Marcus

The Fall fo the Stone City – Ismail Kadare

States of Mind – experience at teh edge of consciousness

Fantastic Tales — Calvino

Kaleidoscope – Zweig

Riders in the Chariot

Bengal Nights

Heidegger; THe Question of Being and History

Breasts and Eggs

The Hunger angel

The Return of Munchausen

The Five and Twenty Tales of te Genie

From the Book to the Book

My Name is Red – Orhan Pamuk

The Book of Margins – Jabes

European Literature nad hte Latin Middle Ages

The Middle Ground

Jesus’s Son

Charles Darwin Bio

The Book fo Laughter amd Forgetting

Magic for Beginners

Latin via Ovid

Lingua Latina


Fruitful Labor

The Politics of Friendship

Margins of Philosophy

Literature in Secret


On the Nature of Things

The Woman Who Pretended to be Who She Was

Untying the Knot

The Psychopathic Racila Personality

Threads and Traces

Maximum City

Murder of the Century

The Illiad

Saddam Hussein: Politics of Revenge

Chickenshit Club

Poetry of Rilke

Classical Chinese


Waiting for the Barbarians

The Scientific Method

Shuckin’ and Jivin’

Making Big Money in 1600

The King of hte World in the Land of the Pygmies

Conversations with Ogotemmeli


Nasa’s New Telescope Will Show Us the Infancy of the Universe

TIME: 3 am

FROM: Kaplan@hotmail.com

TO: The Infancy of the Universe

I know it’s a shame to want to see

Mom and Dad and the IUD

The slip in the goop that led to me. 

The girls in the window they talk with their hands

I’m afraid they saw me looking &

Afraid they didn’t.  And pussy and

Perverted boy who peed on the sill

Ran down the street.  Rang every bell

Brought a bone to school for show and tell.

Did you come from a hiccup or The Mind Divine?

You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.

TIME: 415 am

FROM: Kaplan@hotmail.com

TO: The Infancy of the Universe

After a googling night I learned

Only a very bad boy would ask

The universe its shame.  For they 

don’t feel, cosmoi, anything.  

-nor shame, nor love, nor honor, nor–

at best they burst orgasm suns.

I know that it’s a shame to ask

Something so dumb of something dumb. 

The word for infant means don’t speak.

You show your Self to me with Hum.

TIME: 6am

FROM: Kaplan@hotmail.com

To:The Extragalactic Background Hum

Oh sussuri, Ananda, Nand —

False only if your parts are true —

Oh Background Light obscured by all

Oh photon’s zero AMU.

& now the girls are going home

And if they saw me, they don’t care

Mother and Father also gone

& I their echo lone and bare

I bear repeating, I alone

my shame, my proof, my show, my care.

If I were there when they made me

I  wouldn’t tell — I’d let me be.


The Cleaning Woman

Frenetic to be and a bit forgotten

Hard to hold in mind, and a brush

With wires.


Drop it.  I can’t.  A fever!  

Awful the throb, and little winter light



Auroras, wooly-bear caterpillars

On the carpet the colors

From a prism.


In the window.  The neighbors

Are waiting.  Outside

The porch sags.


Her legs had violet varicose veins

She grew pink tea roses.



When I was just a puddle of water with a face,

She took me in her body like a balloon

protecting me from ocean and from sun

And also from the knowledge that I had enemies, 

When they punctured her I spurted out onto green grass. 

Above me was sky and air full of pollen, 

Dragonflies and damselflies made turns 

and water-striders glid on scum.

“Come to me.” said the pond, and I slid into her,

green with the darting euglena, thick with rotifer. 

When fire came I rose up high, high, high 

clinging to the feathers of a fleeing goose.