Ceremony
Socrates: (cont.) so you, stretching out speeches (logos) before me in scrolls (biblion), appear ready to lead me around (periagein) all of Attica and wherever else you wish
// 230δ
σὺ ἐμοὶ λόγους οὕτω προτείνων ἐν βιβλίοις τήν τε Ἀττικὴν φαίνῃ περιάξειν ἅπασαν καὶ ὅποι ἂν ἄλλοσε βούλῃ
//
treating emoi (to/for/by me) as a dative of agent makes possible an alternate translation -
so you, stretching out speeches by me in scrolls, appear ready to bring me around all of Attica and wherever else you wish
//
yesterday i translated thremmata as goats; but it could mean any kind of kept animal, including human slaves
a-courting, or the word used here
we mampir with Blih at the house of his girlfriend
to meet her mother, by his side, the maskmaker and i
as family representatives or peopled containers
my labels are to smile and nod with genuine interest
to follow the conversation, for extra credit
to support Blih, we drive him there and back
to eat and drink what we are given, to stay as long as it goes
to coach him in the car, to ease his nerves broaching
the sensitive topics, to approve, one step of many
both already divorced, he’s two years older than us
she is a few years younger, expressive, at ease
a tempering of his toughened wants and weathers
just to us he mentions, maybe a baby; pretends
not to be enchanted by a computer-generated mockup
//
🌓
feelings //
Socrates: (cont.) you however seem to me to have found the drug (pharmakon) of my exodus
// 230δ
σὺ μέντοι δοκεῖς μοι τῆς ἐμῆς ἐξόδου τὸ φάρμακον ηὑρηκέναι
//
the good shit
for Petals in her present pleasure zone
she’s rolling round inside the one, the good shit
the fine, the best, ye olde Platonic shit
no hydroponic, just sanctified dank
under Sumatran sun; for snub-nosed exodus
in summers mud, her laurel wreath of sticky bud
up drug botanical by trashy magazine
like chocolate pharma-chronic feuilletine
and toke thine truffled nugget whilst ye may
my silk-eared pig for liplined valentine
today her carrot conversation hearts the play
her eats the emptiness of tools as feels divine
//
E=m11!1
//
🌒
consistere
psst — the monsters are all in evidence over here
many with their sights on you, can you not see them?
maybe they don’t wear chaos like your command
or ugliness as your specification; maybe in love
they can’t afford to show the truth; some have been known
to flatter relentlessly the passing beauty; or even
to dress up as their own negation, pretending tools
or fancy chairs or helpless little girls; and many
renouncing love or beauty altogether; but nobody
is sorry; nobody knows that everybody
is swallowed up by someone by the end; and nobody
is more monstrous than mercy, or more self-same
still; if you want it darker, we can totally kill the flame
but the poet will kill it for us in six or seven lines
//
xox
as making do
was worked exquisitely until worked out
a nagging, no-good splinter, studied bit
from the toe-ball mound of some leviathan
mere sliver; then salvaged by a maskmaker
if mountain makers last by root and bud
of artful past from a forgetful dancer
sequestered in their unearned sorrow, sung
too low and dear for an angry wound to hear
too clear for tears or dollar bills to hold
but a mask is living loss returned to wood
impossibility the daily ending felt
itself not made nor lost enough to face
so held and turned; for an ugly splinter
with yet some reservoir of mammoths blood
in love, it was an advantageous marriage
//
Socrates: (cont.) for i am a lover of learning (philomathes)
// 230δ
φιλομαθὴς γάρ εἰμι
//
Love here is philos rather than eros; philomathes (from philos + manthanein) could be either an adjective or a verb, rendering alternative translations,
for i am a lover of learning
for i am (you) love learning
like a Socratic Tetragrammaton.
This is the speech, written by Lysias, that Phaedrus is about to read; Phaedrus also references Socrates' special interest in erotics (e.g. Symposium 177d).
There’s a notable comparison between suggignoskein (to think together) and charizein (to gratify), whose meanings could somehow overlap (to agree with, to forgive, to share a feeling); whereas Socrates (lover?) asks for the first, Lysias' speech will be about the latter (for a non-lover).
The sheer amount left implicit in the conversation about love (and desire, and sexuality, as subject to persuasion, as coercion, as predatory, as abuse, in a culture of abuse, etc. etc., as experiment, as play, as care, as friendship, as sacred, as true) (and as poetry) really baffled me when i first encountered the dialogue (>25 years ago). But if Phaedrus has a unifying theme, perhaps it would be this — the power of the unspoken.
//
crossing //
Socrates: think together with me (suggignosko), O best one
// 230δ
συγγίγνωσκέ μοι, ὦ ἄριστε
//
suggignosko, from sun (together) + gignosko (to be aware of, perceive, observe, know, learn, discern, observe, judge, determine, think, know carnally, have sex with), carries a variety of implications, to think with or agree with, also to acknowledge, to confess, to make allowances for, to forgive, etc., similar to Latin conscience; many possible meanings here, intimacy implied —
think together with me
agree with me
share thoughts with me
acknowledge me
learn with me
observe with me
confess to me
share a feeling with me
understand me
recognize me
forgive me
know me
know me together
//
basically a marriage proposal
special delivery
smooth now, that rough magic
periscopic tragic midnight lookout
pale arms out arctic like an exiled
penguin into the nameless city
coping, cold, gauze in a sand storm
laron flicker in the mighty dust
a turning ember, hot
spark-caught, gold-litter
in the spider web
spanning a rattan lamp shade
my one fish, two fish
her peacock greenish-black or blue
the switch, dangling
sarcophagus
so dead; quothe the neon miracle
off-gassing meatlight; or Lalah
pink, with only enough instinct
to kill and never eat, my baby, yes;
deveining ribbons in the snow, scrubbed
scrubbing, awash in the darkroom; or
backstage, up rusty rungs, like icicles; blanket
of rags, pocket of candy-wrapped pills; she goes
like gamelan trancing crickets at the cross
by tilem, smoke of incense over the sawah
//
three to the face
behind me, in future’s terrible
mirror
covered, its darker nature with
a sparkling
coat, the snow stay unimprinted
with
my, over by a blanket of eternal
stars, turn
into a storm, a blizzard with zero
visibility, futile
were duly stomped to iridescent
dust, cold
but clear / but touch it once
twice
We count out loud. Each piece.
Every particle.
before pain has left my bed
it will not carry me away
//
🌑
//
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Phaedrus: (cont.) for artlessly (a-technos), as you say, you have looked like some guided stranger and not of the country
// 230ξ
ἀτεχνῶς γάρ ὃ λέγεις ξεναγουμένῳ τινὶ καὶ οὐκ ἐπιχωρίῳ ἔοικας
//
sea-blew
what left, Miranda, the wind fortuning you
a Calibaning egg of Cali-bans
or Prosper’s abjuring empire of plans
some dummy’s wife who fell under his spell
the queen of Napoli; world’s best ice cream
the rook, the knight, carved pieces curious
with subtle knife she tries the bardic seam
a memory game or seashell serious
before, before, the backward-dark sings where
for worm your daddy needling mercy for
for forward way, the swallows only way
abysm storm and how came you no mother
you won’t know how to make a baby yet
when all you were is got and get without your will
or will withal begotten grow to fill out
full figure for your fateless face, blew-eyed
//
O
ovarian //