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.