He reads poems.
Today, he read a
very brief poem
whose meaning
seemed absurd.
The poet had
been in the
German army
during WWI.
Maybe that
had something
to do with the
absurdity. 
PTSD? He
also reads
simplistic
rhymed and
metered
poems like
the religious
poems his
aunt wrote
for the local,
neighborhood
newspaper.
Once in a
while he
reads a poem
and says,
“Voilà,
Aristotle’s
Golden Mean,
the Buddha's
Middle Way, 
Lao Tzu's 
Tao -- some-
thing that 
reads really 
well like 
a parable of 
Jesus.