Calculating meaning in “Kubla Khan” – a rough cut William Benzon Revised Version, December 9, 2017 I’ve been working on “Kubla Khan” off and on for the last two weeks or so. On November 29 I issued a working paper entitled “The Problem of Form in ‘Kubla Khan’” [1]. I then set to work at delivering on the promises made or implied in the last section of that piece. The draft grew and grew. Which is good and not so good. The growth was easy in that I quickly identified what had to be done and was able to set about doing it, often by repurposing or elaborating on prose already written. In that sense it was good. Things were falling into place, at long last. But it was not so good in that it wasn’t at all clear just when this would end. Maybe the thing to do would be to write the (damned!) book. Well, yes, I’ll write the book. But that will take awhile. Meanwhile I want to get something out there for people to think about. I’ve decided to regroup. A JPG Preview I’d already sent out tweets with a JPG containing this material: Calculating “Kubla Khan”–Version 2 The numbers are line numbers in the poem. Start, establish the space: (1-54) Expand, establish two movements: ((1-36)(37-54)) Calculate 1-36 [first movement] and substitute final value: (XXIV(37-54)) We’re now ready to calculate 37-54 [second movement] (XXIV(37-54)) Expand, establish three components: (XXIV((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) Activate first component: (XXIV((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) Expand, establish three sub-components: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)(45-49a)(49b-50))(51-54)) Activate: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)(45-49a)(49b-50))(51-54)) Expand, establish three sub-sub-components: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(47)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Activate: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(47)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 1  We’ve now reached the structural center of the second movement, line 47. We’re going to substitute the value calculated for the first movement and complete the calculation. ((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(XXIV)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(XXIV)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(XXIV)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Consolidate activation: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Consolidate activation: ((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) Activate: ((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) Arrive at the final value: (XLII) “Paradise”=last word of the poem. When I tweeted that I figured I would write a document explaining what was going on, but my draft drifted from that intention. This document returns to that intention. First I rough-out a notion of what it means to calculate the meaning of a text. Then I work my way through the first movement of “Kubla Khan” by pulling a fast-one, like Coleridge did. Then we step our way through the second movement. Next there’s a short section that contrasts “Kubla Khan” with “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison”, followed by a concluding section with some remarks about poetry and the mind. Then we have the full texts of both poems followed by references. Calculate Meaning? By text I mean a string, not of words, but of signifiers. Why not words? Because word is an informal concept encompassing both aspects of the Saussurian sign, the signifier and the signified. Texts are physical things, whether marks on some surface, mechanical vibrations in air or, for that matter, patterns of physical gestures. Signs are physical things as well, but signifiers are not. Signifiers exist as patterns of electrochemical activity in brains; signifiers exist in the mind. That earlier working paper, “The Problem of Form in ‘Kubla Khan’” [1], was mostly about form in a text, a string of signifiers. Roughly speaking then, to calculate the meaning of a text is to construct a coherent pattern of signifieds as prompted by the that text. Coherence is not guaranteed, but I am not going to attempt a characterization here, nor am I going discuss any details of how signifiers are bound to signifieds, and so forth. Both issues have been addressed computationally in an extensive literature going back over half a century. For the purposes of this paper I assume that matters of syntax and semantic take the form of a relational net, as discussed for example in [2], [3], or [4] that is embodied in a meshwork of neurons. The relational net is itself highly structured and that structure guides the binding of signifiers to signifieds as the reading process unfolds. I assume this process involves both composition and convolution. Composition is the primary process and for many texts it may be the only process. I sometimes think of composition as “the freight train” model of meaning, where meanings are discrete entities, each of which is packed into a freight car, and the cars assembled into a train. In 2 fact, nothing in a relational net works like this, but it will serve as a crude metaphor to underpin the following discussion. I characterize convolution on page 5. Step by step through the first movement of “Kubla Khan” Let’s start at the top (with initial line numbers added): The numbers are line numbers in the poem. 1. Start, establish the space: (1-54) 2. Expand, establish two movements: ((1-36)(37-54)) 3. Calculate 1-36 [first movement] and substitute final value: (XXIV(37-54)) Line 1: We’re dealing with a poem, “Kubla Khan”, that has 54 lines. Let’s not worry about what “establish the space” might mean. Most likely something like: Prepare to compose a scene, where composition is understood to be a distinctly different process from convolution. I needed some terminology, and that seemed OK. Ultimately we’re going to be thinking about something that happens in a nervous system, and that will require a terminology and set of concepts of its own. The green highlighting indicates where the action will be in the next step. Line 2: At this point we’re looking at the very top of a tree, one with two branches. The tree marks the division of the text of “Kubla Khan” into a structure of substrings. The parenthesized expression in Line 2 marks the division into two substrings. Those substrings will be further divided, but we can set that aside from now. My original insight, years ago, was to treat the text like a LISP expression, with parentheses delimiting substrings. The structure of that expression guides calculating the meaning of the text (via cumulative activation in a neural meshwork) as we move through the string from left to right, with no backtracking. If we were to expand that expression more fully, at some point we’d get something like this, where I’ve used highlighting to indicate the two movements of the poem: ( ((((1-2)(3-5))((6-7)((8-9)(10-11)))((((12-13)(14-16))(((17- 19)(20-22)(23-24)))(((25-26)(27-28)))(29-30)))(((31-32)(33- 34))((35)(36)))) (((37-38)(39-41))((42-43)(44))((45- 46)(47)(48))((49a)(49b-50))((51-52)(53-54))) ) That, alas, is all but unintelligible. Let’s display the whole structure as a tree: 3 That’s better. Now we’re ready for the next line: Line 3: Calculate 1-36 [first movement] and substitute final value: (XXIV(37-54)) But nowhere do I show that calculation. I simply substitute the final calculated value for the first 36 lines, XXIV, in the expression from line 2, ((1-36)(37-54)), to yield (XXIV(37-54)), where I used the inverse printing to mark the fact that there’s something special about this item. But how can I get away with not showing how we’ve calculated the meaning of lines 1- to-36? Well, for one thing, if you look at the diagram you can see that the two movements of the poem have roughly the same form. Since we’re about to go through the calculation for the second movement of the poem we can, at least for the moment, let that stand as a proxy for what we’d have to do to calculate the meaning of line 1-to-36. That’s part of the answer. The other part has to do with the substitution of that final value, XXIV in Line 3 (on my choice of Roman numerals, see [5]). I have already argued [6], and at some great length, that the final line of the first movement – “It was a sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!” – is emblematic of the whole movement. In a sense that needs to be carefully specified, but not here and now, that line IS or CONTAINS, or POINTS TO that meaning (see [6]). How can that be, you ask, how can that be? Convolution, I say. 4 This is where things get tricky. This is why that other document I’d been working on just grew and grew. Roughly speaking, lines 1-to-11 establish one domain, a visuo-spatial domain in which Coleridge composes a scene where Kubla Khan is the primary agent. Lines 12-to-30 establish a contrasting domain, an aural-temporal domain in which Coleridge composes a scene where the wailing woman and the bursting fountain are the agents. Lines 31-36 then convolve those two domains and ‘attach’ the result to the final line, which I have thus called the Emblem. The “sunny pleasure-dome” resonates with the visual-spatial domain while “the caves of ice” resonate with the aural-temporal domain (think of ice as the frozen water from the fountain). Still, what do I mean by convolve? I’m going to tap-dance through this one. Some years ago David Hays and I published a paper on metaphor, “Metaphor, Recognition, and Neural Process” [7], in which we argued that ‘robust’ metaphor (as opposed to ‘dead’ metaphor) works be convolving the tenor and the vehicle. At the time we were influenced by Karl Pribram’s notion of neural holography, which we explain (somewhat) in the paper. Note that neural tissue is active tissue. Individual neurons are always active, but more so at some times than others. Convolution is thus a process involving the interaction of meshworks of neurons, perhaps arranged in a specific architecture. We used a passage from Homer’s Iliad (Lattimore translation, 1951, ll. 163-175 [8]) as an example. The passage has the verbal form of a simile, but the basic conceptual process is metaphorical: From the other side the son of Peleus rose like a lion against him, the baleful beast, when men have been straining to kill him, the country all in the hunt, and he at first pays them no attention but goes his way, only when some one of the impetuous young men has hit him with the spear he whirls, jaws open, over his teeth foam breaks out, and in the depth of his chest the powerful heart groans; he lashes his own ribs with his tail and the flanks on both sides as he rouses himself to fury for the fight, eyes glaring, and hurls himself straight onward on the chance of killing some one of the men, or else being killed himself in the first onrush. So the proud heart and fighting fury stirred on Achilleus to go forward in the face of great-hearted Aineias. In short, Achilles was a lion in battle. In traditional terminology, Achilles is the tenor, lion the vehicle, and the ground is some martial virtue “proud heart and fighting fury”. But what of that detailed vignette about the lion's fighting style? Imagine a meshwork of neural tissue resonating with an image of a lion in battle and another meshwork, physically intermingled with the first, resonating with an image of Achilles in battle. The bodies of Achilles and the lion drop out in the convolution and what we’ve got left is the fighting style, appropriate to both man and beast. THAT’s what Coleridge is doing in lines 31-34, where orange highlighting indicates the visuo spatial domain and blue highlighting indicates the aural temporal domain: The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. And then we have the final couplet: 5  It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! Thus, in lines 31-36 Coleridge composes a scene that incorporates elements from the two domains he’s already established, with neural meshworks resonating in the background. The effect of these compositions reverberating through that neural background is to convolve the two domains. The full paper [6] argues this in explicit detail. To be sure, it says nothing about convolution; it just points out the semantic connections Coleridge is setting up within the first movement of “Kubla Khan” as it moves from one substring to another. When the concluding line, the Emblem, reappears in the second movement of the poem it boosts the activation level of the neural mesh activated in the first movement and introduces its convolution midway into the second movement. There’s one more thing to notice. The first two sections, lines 1-12, and 13- 30, weren’t articulated from any identifiable viewpoint. One tries in vain to locate the speaking voice anywhere within that world. That changes in lines 31-34, which a point somewhere in Xanadu, the point at/from which someone sees the shadow of the dome and hears the mingled measure. The speaking subject has now located him/herself within the Xanadu world. Step by step through the second movement of “Kubla Khan” 4. We’re now ready to calculate 37-54 [second movement] (XXIV(37-54)) 5. Expand, establish three components: (XXIV((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) 6. Activate first component: (XXIV((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) 7. Expand, establish three sub-components: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)(45-49a)(49b-50))(51-54)) 8. Activate: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)(45-49a)(49b-50))(51-54)) 9. Expand, establish three sub-sub-components: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(47)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 10. Activate: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(47)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) We’ve now reached the structural center of the second movement, line 47. We’re going to substitute the value calculated for the first movement and complete the calculation. Line 4: Simply asserts that we’ve moving ahead and presents us with the expression we had at the conclusion of evaluating the first 36 lines. The emblem (XXIV) is just ‘waiting’ there, resonating in the background; remember, we’re dealing with living neural tissue. The focus shifts to the second movement, highlighted in green. Line 5: In effect, takes a ‘peek’ at the next level of the tree. It’s not at all clear to me what significance, if any, this would have for a more neurally based account. Line 6: “Activate the first component” means, in effect, read it, set the neural meshwork resonating, hence the gray highlighting. In the process, that segment of the string is ‘consumed’, hence the strikethrough. Lines 42-50 are up next. Lines 7 - 10: We’re working our way to the middle of the middle of the middle, thus: 6 We’re ready to finish reading through the poem: 11. Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(XXIV)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 12. Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(XXIV)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 13. Consolidate activation: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 14. Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 15. Consolidate activation: ((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) 16. Activate: ((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) 17. Arrive at the final value: (XLII) “Paradise”=last word of the poem. Lines 11-17: I believe that’s all fairly straightforward. We’re just moving through the text word after word. However, as the repetition of the Emblem in line 47 has introduced the calculated value of the first 36 lines into the second movement, one thing that is happening as we move to the end is that that meaning is – you guessed it! – convolved with the material being introduced in the second movement. I note first of all that, unlike the first movement, the speaker is present (to us) in the second movement. Lines 37 and 38 read: “A damsel with a dulcimer/ In a vision once I saw”. Once I saw: “I”, first person, subjective case, pronoun, to appear again in lines 42 and 46. “Me”, first person, objective case, appears in lines 42 and 44. The first person doesn’t appear at all in the first movement, nor the second person, which appears in line 52. The first movement presented us with states of a physical world. The second movement is presenting us with states of a mental and imaginative world. In lines 37 through 41 (remember, there’s a complete text in an appendix), the speaker reports a vision he’d had. In line 42 he introduces a hypothetical assertion, “Could I revive within me...” that, if it were to come to pass, has five consequences, asserted in: 1. Line 44: “To such deep delight ‘twould win me” 2. Line 45: “That with music loud and long,” 3. Line 46: “I would build that dome in air/ That sunny dome! Those caves of ice!” 7  4. Line 48: “And all who heard should see them there,” 5. Line 49: “And all should cry...” Line 47, of course, is the repetition of the emblem, introducing the calculated value of the first movement, which I’ve indicated by continuing the color coding I introduced on page 5. By “introducing the calculated value” I likely mean something like: reactivates the associated neural meshwork. It continues: Line 50: “His flashing eyes, his floating hair!” Line 53: “For he one honey-dew have fed,” Line 54: “And drunk the milk of Paradise.” The following diagram schematizes the way in which the meaning of the first movement of “Kubla Khan” is convolved into the meaning of the second movement: That diagram is Figure 21 from my full-dress analytical description of “Kubla Khan” [6] and I repeat it in a working paper where I compare “Kubla Khan” with “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison” [9], which we’ll turn to next. But I want to make one last remark about “Kubla Khan”. The poem’s last word is “Paradise”. That is not a word Coleridge, a devout Christian, would have used casually, though “Kubla Khan” is thoroughly secular, if not downright pagan. He kept extensive notes, which have been examined, examined, and examined again, and published in various forms, including, of course, richly annotated editions for scholars only. A somewhat less imposing collection was published as Anima Poetae, and it contains this jotting: 8  If a man could pass through Paradise in a dream, and have a flower presented to him as a pledge that his soul had really been there, and if he found that flower in his hand when he awoke—Ay! and what then? As you may recall, when Coleridge finally published “Kubla Khan” in 1816, some years after he had written it, he published it with a preface in which he asserted that the poem came to him in an opium-inspired vision – opium was the aspirin of the time, an all purpose curative, and Coleridge had become addicted – which was interrupted when a pesky businessman came knocking on his door. Consequently he was unable, alas, to reconstruct the entire vision, and the poem presents us with only a fragment of it. Does not that story sound rather like that fragment in Anima Poetae, where the text of “Kubla Khan” plays the role of that rose? A note on “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison” “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison” is utterly different from “Kubla Khan”. But then every other poem Coleridge wrote is utterly different from “Kubla Khan”. He never wrote another like it, nor, so far as I know – which isn’t all that far – has anyone else. “Lime-Tree Bower” is one of a small group of poems generally known as the Conversation Poems; each takes the form of a conversation between the poet, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and someone he loves, in this case his friend Charles Lamb. The poem is 74 lines long and, like “Kubla Khan”, unfolds in two movements. But those movements are constructed along utterly different lines from those in “Kubla Khan”, which I’ve examined at some length in a working paper [10]. “Lime-Tree Bower” is essentially a narrative, a short narrative in lyric mode. The poet, that is, Coleridge, is feeling sorry for himself as he is, for some unstated reason – the poem, apparently is based on a real incident in which Coleridge’s foot was scalded by hot milk – confined to his yard while his friends, including Lamb, go for a walk on the countryside. He follows their walk in his imagination. The first movement ends with these lines (32-43): Ah! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem Less gross than bodily; and of such hues As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes Spirits perceive his presence. In the second movement he turns his attention to his immediate environment (45-47): Nor in this bower, This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd Much that has sooth'd me. And continues to remark on his surroundings, ending with (68-76): My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook Beat its straight path across the dusky air Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) 9  Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory, While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still, Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom No sound is dissonant which tells of Life. Notice, in the first place, that both movements end with an image of the sun – akin to the sunny dome of “Kubla Khan”? The sun connects them, Charles out there in the landscape, standing near the coast, and Coleridge in his yard, because can both see it, perhaps like all those who gazed at “That sunny dome!” in awe and wonder. Moreover, notice that Coleridge is commanding the sun in the first movement – “slowly sink” – and then the “purple heath-flowers” – “Shine in the distant beams of the sinking orb” – and he goes on: richlier burn, ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue Ocean! Is this how “Kubla Khan” commanded the stately–pleasure dome into existence? And then at the end of the second movement Coleridge invokes sound, the rook “Flew creeking o’re thy head”, thus giving us light and sound together, as he did at the end of the first movement of “Kubla Khan”. Moreover, as far as I can tell, convolution isn’t so pivotal to calculating the meaning of “Lime-Tree Bower” as it is for “Kubla Khan”. Unlike the two movements of “Kubla Khan”, which take place in utterly different domains – Xanadu vs. the mental life of the poet – the two movements of “Lime-Tree Bower” take place in domains that differ only in physical scale, the first movement is, in effect, macro, while the second is micro. “Lime-Tree Bower” has no construct like the Emblem in “Kubla Khan”, nor do we see the convolution of one domain with another. Its computational underpinning is utterly different – all of which I discuss in my article on the poem [9]. Despite the fact that these are VERY different poems, these poems share the same imagery and tropes, and the kinship goes beyond what I’ve just pointed out – something I explored a bit in an early publication [11] and more extensively in that working paper [10]. In that working paper I also explore their different approaches to versification. “Lime-Tree Bower” is straight iambic pentameter without any rhyming. “Kubla Khan” employs a variety of meters and has an elaborate rhyme scheme. Taken two an three lines at a time we see that the rhyme scheme aligns with the tree structure we examined above, except, except in two places – I’ve laid this out in [6]. Do you want to guess where those two places are? That’s right, middle of the middle in both movements, the sections labeled “Desynchronization” in the following diagram, which indicates other sonic parallels between the two movements (see [6] for explanation]: 10 In the second movement the desynchronization happens at the point where the Emblem is introduced into the ongoing calculation. What’s happening at the corresponding position in the first movement? That seething breathing bursting fountain is what’s happening. The bursting fountain is to Xanadu what the Emblem is to the poet’s recollection of a vision. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would say [12]. But also richer and richer. I assume, but am unable to argue, that these differences in poetic technique are intrinsic to the modes of these two poets; they aren’t decorative difference. As I pointed out in my working paper [10], “Lime-Tree Bower” is a first person narrative. It is relatively easy to piece events together as the poem moves along. KK is different; it lacks a narrative frame. Thus it cannot register either narrative movement or a self that experiences such movement. Things and scenes are juxtaposed in a way that is sometimes hard to grasp. Yet, as we have seen, there is a rigorous logic to the poem. At the same time it has an elaborate rhyme scheme and other sound features as well. [...] I suggest that the confluence between sound and sense in “Kubla Khan” is, in effect, a surrogate for the lack of a narrative frame, and hence the impossibility of a narrative trajectory. The key point is that rhyme adds an element of predictability to the verse; one knows that sounds will repeat at regular intervals and so can anticipate them. Thus the predictability that has been “lost” because the poem does not have a narrative flow is “restored” or “compensated for” though elaborate rhyme. The temporal structure of the poem itself becomes the frame for its semantic trajectory. Just why that should be so, I do not know. I note however that, so far as we know, the neural tissue that is given over to sound is pretty much like that given over to meaning, for, to a first approximation, the entire neocortex exhibits much the same kind of circuitry. Electrochemical activity is electrochemical activity regardless of the tissue it happens in. And that, I suggest, is where we’re going to have to look to understand just what’s going on. 11 Poetry and the mind I take it, then, that poetry – and the arts in general – is a rich source of information about how the mind is implemented in the brain. Literature is particularly rich in that it employs a wide range of mental capacities working intimately in concert with one another. It seems all but impossible that we could unobtrusively instrument a person’s brain so that we could record neural activities, in detail, as that person goes about daily life. But we can certainly observe what’s going on in a person’s brain as they read or listen to literature, or watch a movie – such work has been going on for well over a decade. What might we learn from “Kubla Khan” and, in particular, from the difference between “Kubla Khan” and “This Lime Tree Bower My Prison”? I don’t know. We’re just going to have to do it and see. Is it possible? I’m not one to judge. But when I was working on my book about music, Beethoven’s Anvil, I had the privilege of corresponding with the late Walter Freeman, who pioneered the us of complex dynamics in understanding the brain. I once put the question to him in the following email: Walter, I've had another crazy idea. I've been thinking about Haken's remark that the trick to dealing with dynamical systems is to find phenomena of low dimensionality in them. What I think is that that is what poetic form does for language. The meaning of any reasonable hunk of language is a trajectory in a space of very high dimensionality. Poetic form "carves out" a few dimensions of that space and makes them "sharable" so that "I" and "Thou" can meet in aesthetic contemplation. So, what does this mean? One standard analytic technique is to discover binary oppositions in the text and see how they are treated. In KK Coleridge has a pile of them, human vs. natural, male vs. female, auditory vs. visual, expressive vs. volitional, etc. So, I'm thinking of making a table with one column for each line of the poem and then other columns for each of these "induced" dimensions. I then score the content of each line on each dimension, say +, - and 0. That set of scores, taken in order from first to last line, is the poem's trajectory through a low dimensional projection or compression of the brain's state space. The trick, of course, is to pull those dimensions out of the EEG data. Having a sound recording of the reading might be useful. What happens if you use the amplitude envelope of the sound recording to "filter" the EEG data? Later, Bill B Freemans’ response? 12  Not crazy, Bill, but technologically challenging! Will keep on file and get back to you. “Not crazy” is good enough for me. As far as I’m concerned, the game is afoot. But someone else is going to have to do the heavy lifting on this one, for it requires mathematical skills I lack, extensive knowledge of neurophysiology and processes, and access to sophisticated equipment. It will likely take several villages of researchers to do this research over I don’t know how many decades, if not intellectual generations. I would expect them to find that “Kubla Khan” and “This Lime-Tree Bower” take orthogonal paths through the mind’s state space and that the paths for the other Conversation poems – “The Aeolian Harp”, “Frost at Midnight”, and “The Nightingale” – run parallel with that of “Lime-Tree Bower” and thus orthogonal to that of “Kubla Khan”. The paths of the Conversation poets are fundamentally narrative and personal; these paths reveal the unfolding of subjectivity in time. The path of “Kubla Khan” is ontological and impersonal. It displays the structure of being. I would expect these future investigators to find much else as well. As always, more later. 13 Appendix 1: “Kubla Khan” First movement 1.1 1.11 1.111 In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 1 A stately pleasure-dome decree: 2 1.112 Where Alph, the sacred river, ran 3 Through caverns measureless to man 4 Down to a sunless sea. 5 1.12 1.121 So twice five miles of fertile ground 6 With walls and towers were girdled round: 7 1.122 1.1221 And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, 8 Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; 9 1.1222 And here were forests ancient as the hills, 10 Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. 11 1.2 1.21 1.211 But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted 12 Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! 13 1.212 A savage place! as holy and enchanted 14 As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted 15 By woman wailing for her demon lover! 16 1.22 1.221 And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething 17 As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, 18 A mighty fountain momently was forced: 19 1.222 Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst 20 Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, 21 Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail: 22 1.223 And ‘mid these dancing rocks at once and ever 23 It flung up momently the sacred river. 24 1.23 1.231 1.2311 Five miles meandering with a mazy motion 25 Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, 26 1.2312 Then reached the caverns endless to man, 27 And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: 28 1.232 And ‘mid this tumult Kubla heard from far 29 Ancestral voices prophesying war! 30 1.3 1.31 1.311 The shadow of the dome of pleasure 31 Floated midway on the waves; 32 1.312 Where was heard the mingled measure 33 From the fountain and the caves. 34 1.32 1.321 It was a miracle of rare device, 35 1.322 A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! 36 14 Second movement 2.1 2.11 A damsel with a dulcimer 37 In a vision once I saw: 38 2.12 It was an Abyssinian maid, 39 And on her dulcimer she played, 40 Singing of Mount Abora. 41 2.2 2.21 2.211 Could I revive within me 42 Her symphony and song, 43 2.212 To such a deep delight ‘twould win me 44 2.22 2.221 That with music loud and long, 45 I would build that dome in air, 46 2.222 That sunny dome! those caves of ice! 47 2.223 And all who heard should see them there, 48 2.23 2.231 And all should cry, 49a 2.232 Beware! Beware! 49b His flashing eyes, his floating hair! 50 2.3 2.31 Weave a circle round him thrice, 51 And close your eyes with holy dread, 52 2.32 For he on honey-dew hath fed, 53 And drunk the milk of Paradise. 54 15 Appendix 2: “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison” 1 1.1 1.11 1.111 Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, 1 This lime-tree bower my prison! 2 1.112 I have lost 2 Beauties and feelings, such as would have been 3 Most sweet to my remembrance even when age 4 Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! 5 1.12 1.121 They, meanwhile, 5 Friends, whom I never more may meet again, 6 On springy heath, along the hill-top edge, 7 Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, 8 To that still roaring dell, of which I told; 9 1.122 The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, 10 And only speckled by the mid-day sun; 11 Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock 12 Flings arching like a bridge;--that branchless ash, 13 Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves 14 Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still, 15 Fann'd by the water-fall! 16a 1.123 and there my friends 16b Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds, 17 That all at once (a most fantastic sight!) 18 Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge 19 Of the blue clay-stone. 20 1.2 1.21 1.211 Now, my friends emerge 20 Beneath the wide wide Heaven--and view again 21 The many-steepled tract magnificent 22 Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea 23 With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up 24 The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles 25 Of purple shadow! 26 1.212 Yes! they wander on 26 In gladness all; but thou, methinks, most glad, 27 My gentle-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined 28 And hunger'd after Nature, many a year, 29 In the great City pent, winning thy way 30 With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain 31 And strange calamity! 32 1.22 1.221 Ah! slowly sink 32 Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! 33 Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, 34 Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! 35 Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! 36 And kindle, thou blue Ocean! 37 1.222 So my friend 37 Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, 38 Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round 39 On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem 40 Less gross than bodily; and of such hues 41 As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes 42 Spirits perceive his presence. 43 16 2 2.1 2.11 2.111 A delight 43 Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad 44 As I myself were there! 45 2.112 Nor in this bower, 45 This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd 46 Much that has sooth'd me. 47 2.1 2.121 Pale beneath the blaze 47 Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch'd 48 Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov'd to see 49 The shadow of the leaf and stem above 50 Dappling its sunshine! 51 2.122 And that walnut-tree 51 Was richly ting'd, and a deep radiance lay 52 Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps 53 Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass 54 Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue 55 Through the late twilight: 56 2.123 and though now the bat 56 Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters, 57 Yet still the solitary humble-bee 58 Sings in the bean-flower! 59 2.2 2.21 Henceforth I shall know 59 That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure; 60 No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, 61 No waste so vacant, but may well employ 62 Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart 63 Awake to Love and Beauty! 64 and sometimes 64 'Tis well to be bereft of promis'd good, 65 That we may lift the soul, and contemplate 66 With lively joy the joys we cannot share. 67 2.22 My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook 68 Beat its straight path across the dusky air 69 Homewards, I blest it! 70 deeming its black wing 70 (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) 71 Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory, 72 While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still, 73 Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm 74 For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom 75 No sound is dissonant which tells of Life. 76 17 References [1] The Problem of Form in “Kubla Khan”, Working Paper, November 29, 2017, 13 pp., https://www.academia.edu/35275862/The_problem_of_form_in_Kubla_Khan_ [2] David D. Hays, Networks, Cognitive, In (Allen Kent, Harold Lancour, Jay E. Daily, eds.): Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science, Vol. 19. Marcel Dekker, Inc., NY 1976, 281-300. [3] Cognitive Networks and Literary Semantics, MLN 91: 1976, 952-982. https://www.academia.edu/235111/Cognitive_Networks_and_Literary_Semantics [4] Lamb, Sydney M. (1998). Pathways of the Brain. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. [5] The Roman numerals have no significance that matters for the argument. I needed some symbol to perform a rhetorical function and they seemed appropriate. But the particular values I chose embody something of a joke. ‘XXIV’ is ‘24’ in decimal notation and ‘24’ has the same digits as ‘42’ except in reverse order. Expressed in Roman numerals ‘42” becomes ‘XLII’, which shows up at the very end, where it is a proxy for ‘Paradise’. And ‘42’, of course, is the number Douglas Adams choose to be the meaning of life as calculated by a computer in one of his books. [6] “Kubla Khan” and the Embodied Mind, PsyArt: A Hyperlink Journal for the Psychological Study of the Arts, November 29, 2003. https://www.academia.edu/8810242/_Kubla_Khan_and_the_Embodied_Mind [7] William Benzon and David G. Hays, Metaphor, Recognition, and Neural Process, American Journal of Semiotics 5: 59 - 79, 1987. https://www.academia.edu/238608/Metaphor_Recognition_and_Neural_Process [8] Richard Lattimore, trans. 1951 The Iliad of Homer. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. [9] Talking with Nature in “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison”, PsyArt: A Hyperlink Journal for the Psychological Study of the Arts, November, 2004. https://www.academia.edu/8345952/Talking_with_Nature_in_This_Lime- Tree_Bower_My_Prison_ [10] STC, Poetic Form, and a Glimpse of the Mind, Working Paper, November 2013, 45 pp. https://www.academia.edu/8139268/STC_Poetic_Form_and_a_Glimpse_of_the_Mind [11] Metaphoric and Metonymic Invariance: Two Examples from Coleridge, MLN 96: 1097 - 1105, 1981. https://www.academia.edu/35168392/Metaphoric_and_Metonymic_Invariance_Two_ Examples_from_Coleridge [12] “Curiouser and curiouser” seems to be a popular tatoo. Do a search on the phrase, you’ll see. 18 19 

Calculating meaning in “Kubla Khan” – a rough cut William Benzon Revised Version, December 9, 2017 I’ve been working on “Kubla Khan” off and on for the last two weeks or so. On November 29 I issued a working paper entitled “The Problem of Form in ‘Kubla Khan’” [1]. I then set to work at delivering on the promises made or implied in the last section of that piece. The draft grew and grew. Which is good and not so good. The growth was easy in that I quickly identified what had to be done and was able to set about doing it, often by repurposing or elaborating on prose already written. In that sense it was good. Things were falling into place, at long last. But it was not so good in that it wasn’t at all clear just when this would end. Maybe the thing to do would be to write the (damned!) book. Well, yes, I’ll write the book. But that will take awhile. Meanwhile I want to get something out there for people to think about. I’ve decided to regroup. A JPG Preview I’d already sent out tweets with a JPG containing this material: Calculating “Kubla Khan”–Version 2 The numbers are line numbers in the poem. Start, establish the space: (1-54) Expand, establish two movements: ((1-36)(37-54)) Calculate 1-36 [first movement] and substitute final value: (XXIV(37-54)) We’re now ready to calculate 37-54 [second movement] (XXIV(37-54)) Expand, establish three components: (XXIV((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) Activate first component: (XXIV((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) Expand, establish three sub-components: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)(45-49a)(49b-50))(51-54)) Activate: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)(45-49a)(49b-50))(51-54)) Expand, establish three sub-sub-components: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(47)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Activate: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(47)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 1  We’ve now reached the structural center of the second movement, line 47. We’re going to substitute the value calculated for the first movement and complete the calculation. ((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(XXIV)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(XXIV)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(XXIV)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Consolidate activation: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) Consolidate activation: ((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) Activate: ((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) Arrive at the final value: (XLII) “Paradise”=last word of the poem. When I tweeted that I figured I would write a document explaining what was going on, but my draft drifted from that intention. This document returns to that intention. First I rough-out a notion of what it means to calculate the meaning of a text. Then I work my way through the first movement of “Kubla Khan” by pulling a fast-one, like Coleridge did. Then we step our way through the second movement. Next there’s a short section that contrasts “Kubla Khan” with “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison”, followed by a concluding section with some remarks about poetry and the mind. Then we have the full texts of both poems followed by references. Calculate Meaning? By text I mean a string, not of words, but of signifiers. Why not words? Because word is an informal concept encompassing both aspects of the Saussurian sign, the signifier and the signified. Texts are physical things, whether marks on some surface, mechanical vibrations in air or, for that matter, patterns of physical gestures. Signs are physical things as well, but signifiers are not. Signifiers exist as patterns of electrochemical activity in brains; signifiers exist in the mind. That earlier working paper, “The Problem of Form in ‘Kubla Khan’” [1], was mostly about form in a text, a string of signifiers. Roughly speaking then, to calculate the meaning of a text is to construct a coherent pattern of signifieds as prompted by the that text. Coherence is not guaranteed, but I am not going to attempt a characterization here, nor am I going discuss any details of how signifiers are bound to signifieds, and so forth. Both issues have been addressed computationally in an extensive literature going back over half a century. For the purposes of this paper I assume that matters of syntax and semantic take the form of a relational net, as discussed for example in [2], [3], or [4] that is embodied in a meshwork of neurons. The relational net is itself highly structured and that structure guides the binding of signifiers to signifieds as the reading process unfolds. I assume this process involves both composition and convolution. Composition is the primary process and for many texts it may be the only process. I sometimes think of composition as “the freight train” model of meaning, where meanings are discrete entities, each of which is packed into a freight car, and the cars assembled into a train. In 2 fact, nothing in a relational net works like this, but it will serve as a crude metaphor to underpin the following discussion. I characterize convolution on page 5. Step by step through the first movement of “Kubla Khan” Let’s start at the top (with initial line numbers added): The numbers are line numbers in the poem. 1. Start, establish the space: (1-54) 2. Expand, establish two movements: ((1-36)(37-54)) 3. Calculate 1-36 [first movement] and substitute final value: (XXIV(37-54)) Line 1: We’re dealing with a poem, “Kubla Khan”, that has 54 lines. Let’s not worry about what “establish the space” might mean. Most likely something like: Prepare to compose a scene, where composition is understood to be a distinctly different process from convolution. I needed some terminology, and that seemed OK. Ultimately we’re going to be thinking about something that happens in a nervous system, and that will require a terminology and set of concepts of its own. The green highlighting indicates where the action will be in the next step. Line 2: At this point we’re looking at the very top of a tree, one with two branches. The tree marks the division of the text of “Kubla Khan” into a structure of substrings. The parenthesized expression in Line 2 marks the division into two substrings. Those substrings will be further divided, but we can set that aside from now. My original insight, years ago, was to treat the text like a LISP expression, with parentheses delimiting substrings. The structure of that expression guides calculating the meaning of the text (via cumulative activation in a neural meshwork) as we move through the string from left to right, with no backtracking. If we were to expand that expression more fully, at some point we’d get something like this, where I’ve used highlighting to indicate the two movements of the poem: ( ((((1-2)(3-5))((6-7)((8-9)(10-11)))((((12-13)(14-16))(((17- 19)(20-22)(23-24)))(((25-26)(27-28)))(29-30)))(((31-32)(33- 34))((35)(36)))) (((37-38)(39-41))((42-43)(44))((45- 46)(47)(48))((49a)(49b-50))((51-52)(53-54))) ) That, alas, is all but unintelligible. Let’s display the whole structure as a tree: 3 That’s better. Now we’re ready for the next line: Line 3: Calculate 1-36 [first movement] and substitute final value: (XXIV(37-54)) But nowhere do I show that calculation. I simply substitute the final calculated value for the first 36 lines, XXIV, in the expression from line 2, ((1-36)(37-54)), to yield (XXIV(37-54)), where I used the inverse printing to mark the fact that there’s something special about this item. But how can I get away with not showing how we’ve calculated the meaning of lines 1- to-36? Well, for one thing, if you look at the diagram you can see that the two movements of the poem have roughly the same form. Since we’re about to go through the calculation for the second movement of the poem we can, at least for the moment, let that stand as a proxy for what we’d have to do to calculate the meaning of line 1-to-36. That’s part of the answer. The other part has to do with the substitution of that final value, XXIV in Line 3 (on my choice of Roman numerals, see [5]). I have already argued [6], and at some great length, that the final line of the first movement – “It was a sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!” – is emblematic of the whole movement. In a sense that needs to be carefully specified, but not here and now, that line IS or CONTAINS, or POINTS TO that meaning (see [6]). How can that be, you ask, how can that be? Convolution, I say. 4 This is where things get tricky. This is why that other document I’d been working on just grew and grew. Roughly speaking, lines 1-to-11 establish one domain, a visuo-spatial domain in which Coleridge composes a scene where Kubla Khan is the primary agent. Lines 12-to-30 establish a contrasting domain, an aural-temporal domain in which Coleridge composes a scene where the wailing woman and the bursting fountain are the agents. Lines 31-36 then convolve those two domains and ‘attach’ the result to the final line, which I have thus called the Emblem. The “sunny pleasure-dome” resonates with the visual-spatial domain while “the caves of ice” resonate with the aural-temporal domain (think of ice as the frozen water from the fountain). Still, what do I mean by convolve? I’m going to tap-dance through this one. Some years ago David Hays and I published a paper on metaphor, “Metaphor, Recognition, and Neural Process” [7], in which we argued that ‘robust’ metaphor (as opposed to ‘dead’ metaphor) works be convolving the tenor and the vehicle. At the time we were influenced by Karl Pribram’s notion of neural holography, which we explain (somewhat) in the paper. Note that neural tissue is active tissue. Individual neurons are always active, but more so at some times than others. Convolution is thus a process involving the interaction of meshworks of neurons, perhaps arranged in a specific architecture. We used a passage from Homer’s Iliad (Lattimore translation, 1951, ll. 163-175 [8]) as an example. The passage has the verbal form of a simile, but the basic conceptual process is metaphorical: From the other side the son of Peleus rose like a lion against him, the baleful beast, when men have been straining to kill him, the country all in the hunt, and he at first pays them no attention but goes his way, only when some one of the impetuous young men has hit him with the spear he whirls, jaws open, over his teeth foam breaks out, and in the depth of his chest the powerful heart groans; he lashes his own ribs with his tail and the flanks on both sides as he rouses himself to fury for the fight, eyes glaring, and hurls himself straight onward on the chance of killing some one of the men, or else being killed himself in the first onrush. So the proud heart and fighting fury stirred on Achilleus to go forward in the face of great-hearted Aineias. In short, Achilles was a lion in battle. In traditional terminology, Achilles is the tenor, lion the vehicle, and the ground is some martial virtue “proud heart and fighting fury”. But what of that detailed vignette about the lion's fighting style? Imagine a meshwork of neural tissue resonating with an image of a lion in battle and another meshwork, physically intermingled with the first, resonating with an image of Achilles in battle. The bodies of Achilles and the lion drop out in the convolution and what we’ve got left is the fighting style, appropriate to both man and beast. THAT’s what Coleridge is doing in lines 31-34, where orange highlighting indicates the visuo spatial domain and blue highlighting indicates the aural temporal domain: The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. And then we have the final couplet: 5  It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! Thus, in lines 31-36 Coleridge composes a scene that incorporates elements from the two domains he’s already established, with neural meshworks resonating in the background. The effect of these compositions reverberating through that neural background is to convolve the two domains. The full paper [6] argues this in explicit detail. To be sure, it says nothing about convolution; it just points out the semantic connections Coleridge is setting up within the first movement of “Kubla Khan” as it moves from one substring to another. When the concluding line, the Emblem, reappears in the second movement of the poem it boosts the activation level of the neural mesh activated in the first movement and introduces its convolution midway into the second movement. There’s one more thing to notice. The first two sections, lines 1-12, and 13- 30, weren’t articulated from any identifiable viewpoint. One tries in vain to locate the speaking voice anywhere within that world. That changes in lines 31-34, which a point somewhere in Xanadu, the point at/from which someone sees the shadow of the dome and hears the mingled measure. The speaking subject has now located him/herself within the Xanadu world. Step by step through the second movement of “Kubla Khan” 4. We’re now ready to calculate 37-54 [second movement] (XXIV(37-54)) 5. Expand, establish three components: (XXIV((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) 6. Activate first component: (XXIV((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) 7. Expand, establish three sub-components: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)(45-49a)(49b-50))(51-54)) 8. Activate: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)(45-49a)(49b-50))(51-54)) 9. Expand, establish three sub-sub-components: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(47)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 10. Activate: (XXIV((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(47)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) We’ve now reached the structural center of the second movement, line 47. We’re going to substitute the value calculated for the first movement and complete the calculation. Line 4: Simply asserts that we’ve moving ahead and presents us with the expression we had at the conclusion of evaluating the first 36 lines. The emblem (XXIV) is just ‘waiting’ there, resonating in the background; remember, we’re dealing with living neural tissue. The focus shifts to the second movement, highlighted in green. Line 5: In effect, takes a ‘peek’ at the next level of the tree. It’s not at all clear to me what significance, if any, this would have for a more neurally based account. Line 6: “Activate the first component” means, in effect, read it, set the neural meshwork resonating, hence the gray highlighting. In the process, that segment of the string is ‘consumed’, hence the strikethrough. Lines 42-50 are up next. Lines 7 - 10: We’re working our way to the middle of the middle of the middle, thus: 6 We’re ready to finish reading through the poem: 11. Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(XXIV)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 12. Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-46)(XXIV)(48-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 13. Consolidate activation: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 14. Activate: ((37-41)((42-44)((45-49a))(49b-50))(51-54)) 15. Consolidate activation: ((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) 16. Activate: ((37-41)(42-50)(51-54)) 17. Arrive at the final value: (XLII) “Paradise”=last word of the poem. Lines 11-17: I believe that’s all fairly straightforward. We’re just moving through the text word after word. However, as the repetition of the Emblem in line 47 has introduced the calculated value of the first 36 lines into the second movement, one thing that is happening as we move to the end is that that meaning is – you guessed it! – convolved with the material being introduced in the second movement. I note first of all that, unlike the first movement, the speaker is present (to us) in the second movement. Lines 37 and 38 read: “A damsel with a dulcimer/ In a vision once I saw”. Once I saw: “I”, first person, subjective case, pronoun, to appear again in lines 42 and 46. “Me”, first person, objective case, appears in lines 42 and 44. The first person doesn’t appear at all in the first movement, nor the second person, which appears in line 52. The first movement presented us with states of a physical world. The second movement is presenting us with states of a mental and imaginative world. In lines 37 through 41 (remember, there’s a complete text in an appendix), the speaker reports a vision he’d had. In line 42 he introduces a hypothetical assertion, “Could I revive within me...” that, if it were to come to pass, has five consequences, asserted in: 1. Line 44: “To such deep delight ‘twould win me” 2. Line 45: “That with music loud and long,” 3. Line 46: “I would build that dome in air/ That sunny dome! Those caves of ice!” 7  4. Line 48: “And all who heard should see them there,” 5. Line 49: “And all should cry...” Line 47, of course, is the repetition of the emblem, introducing the calculated value of the first movement, which I’ve indicated by continuing the color coding I introduced on page 5. By “introducing the calculated value” I likely mean something like: reactivates the associated neural meshwork. It continues: Line 50: “His flashing eyes, his floating hair!” Line 53: “For he one honey-dew have fed,” Line 54: “And drunk the milk of Paradise.” The following diagram schematizes the way in which the meaning of the first movement of “Kubla Khan” is convolved into the meaning of the second movement: That diagram is Figure 21 from my full-dress analytical description of “Kubla Khan” [6] and I repeat it in a working paper where I compare “Kubla Khan” with “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison” [9], which we’ll turn to next. But I want to make one last remark about “Kubla Khan”. The poem’s last word is “Paradise”. That is not a word Coleridge, a devout Christian, would have used casually, though “Kubla Khan” is thoroughly secular, if not downright pagan. He kept extensive notes, which have been examined, examined, and examined again, and published in various forms, including, of course, richly annotated editions for scholars only. A somewhat less imposing collection was published as Anima Poetae, and it contains this jotting: 8  If a man could pass through Paradise in a dream, and have a flower presented to him as a pledge that his soul had really been there, and if he found that flower in his hand when he awoke—Ay! and what then? As you may recall, when Coleridge finally published “Kubla Khan” in 1816, some years after he had written it, he published it with a preface in which he asserted that the poem came to him in an opium-inspired vision – opium was the aspirin of the time, an all purpose curative, and Coleridge had become addicted – which was interrupted when a pesky businessman came knocking on his door. Consequently he was unable, alas, to reconstruct the entire vision, and the poem presents us with only a fragment of it. Does not that story sound rather like that fragment in Anima Poetae, where the text of “Kubla Khan” plays the role of that rose? A note on “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison” “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison” is utterly different from “Kubla Khan”. But then every other poem Coleridge wrote is utterly different from “Kubla Khan”. He never wrote another like it, nor, so far as I know – which isn’t all that far – has anyone else. “Lime-Tree Bower” is one of a small group of poems generally known as the Conversation Poems; each takes the form of a conversation between the poet, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and someone he loves, in this case his friend Charles Lamb. The poem is 74 lines long and, like “Kubla Khan”, unfolds in two movements. But those movements are constructed along utterly different lines from those in “Kubla Khan”, which I’ve examined at some length in a working paper [10]. “Lime-Tree Bower” is essentially a narrative, a short narrative in lyric mode. The poet, that is, Coleridge, is feeling sorry for himself as he is, for some unstated reason – the poem, apparently is based on a real incident in which Coleridge’s foot was scalded by hot milk – confined to his yard while his friends, including Lamb, go for a walk on the countryside. He follows their walk in his imagination. The first movement ends with these lines (32-43): Ah! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem Less gross than bodily; and of such hues As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes Spirits perceive his presence. In the second movement he turns his attention to his immediate environment (45-47): Nor in this bower, This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd Much that has sooth'd me. And continues to remark on his surroundings, ending with (68-76): My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook Beat its straight path across the dusky air Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) 9  Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory, While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still, Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom No sound is dissonant which tells of Life. Notice, in the first place, that both movements end with an image of the sun – akin to the sunny dome of “Kubla Khan”? The sun connects them, Charles out there in the landscape, standing near the coast, and Coleridge in his yard, because can both see it, perhaps like all those who gazed at “That sunny dome!” in awe and wonder. Moreover, notice that Coleridge is commanding the sun in the first movement – “slowly sink” – and then the “purple heath-flowers” – “Shine in the distant beams of the sinking orb” – and he goes on: richlier burn, ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue Ocean! Is this how “Kubla Khan” commanded the stately–pleasure dome into existence? And then at the end of the second movement Coleridge invokes sound, the rook “Flew creeking o’re thy head”, thus giving us light and sound together, as he did at the end of the first movement of “Kubla Khan”. Moreover, as far as I can tell, convolution isn’t so pivotal to calculating the meaning of “Lime-Tree Bower” as it is for “Kubla Khan”. Unlike the two movements of “Kubla Khan”, which take place in utterly different domains – Xanadu vs. the mental life of the poet – the two movements of “Lime-Tree Bower” take place in domains that differ only in physical scale. The first movement is, in effect, macro, while the second is micro. “Lime-Tree Bower” has no construct like the Emblem in “Kubla Khan”, nor do we see the convolution of one domain with another. Its computational underpinning is utterly different – all of which I discuss in my article on the poem [9]. Despite the fact that these are VERY different poems, these poems share the same imagery and tropes, and the kinship goes beyond what I’ve just pointed out – something I explored a bit in an early publication [11] and more extensively in that working paper [10]. In that working paper I also explore their different approaches to versification. “Lime-Tree Bower” is straight iambic pentameter without any rhyming. “Kubla Khan” employs a variety of meters and has an elaborate rhyme scheme. Taken two an three lines at a time we see that the rhyme scheme aligns with the tree structure we examined above, except, except in two places – I’ve laid this out in [6]. Do you want to guess where those two places are? That’s right, middle of the middle in both movements, the sections labeled “Desynchronization” in the following diagram, which indicates other sonic parallels between the two movements (see [6] for explanation]: 10 In the second movement the desynchronization happens at the point where the Emblem is introduced into the ongoing calculation. What’s happening at the corresponding position in the first movement? That seething breathing bursting fountain is what’s happening. The bursting fountain is to Xanadu what the Emblem is to the poet’s recollection of a vision. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would say [12]. But also richer and richer. I assume, but am unable to argue, that these differences in poetic technique are intrinsic to the modes of these two poets; they aren’t decorative difference. As I pointed out in my working paper [10], “Lime-Tree Bower” is a first person narrative. It is relatively easy to piece events together as the poem moves along. KK is different; it lacks a narrative frame. Thus it cannot register either narrative movement or a self that experiences such movement. Things and scenes are juxtaposed in a way that is sometimes hard to grasp. Yet, as we have seen, there is a rigorous logic to the poem. At the same time it has an elaborate rhyme scheme and other sound features as well. [...] I suggest that the confluence between sound and sense in “Kubla Khan” is, in effect, a surrogate for the lack of a narrative frame, and hence the impossibility of a narrative trajectory. The key point is that rhyme adds an element of predictability to the verse; one knows that sounds will repeat at regular intervals and so can anticipate them. Thus the predictability that has been “lost” because the poem does not have a narrative flow is “restored” or “compensated for” though elaborate rhyme. The temporal structure of the poem itself becomes the frame for its semantic trajectory. Just why that should be so, I do not know. I note however that, so far as we know, the neural tissue that is given over to sound is pretty much like that given over to meaning, for, to a first approximation, the entire neocortex exhibits much the same kind of circuitry. Electrochemical activity is electrochemical activity regardless of the tissue it happens in. And that, I suggest, is where we’re going to have to look to understand just what’s going on. 11 Poetry and the mind I take it, then, that poetry – and the arts in general – is a rich source of information about how the mind is implemented in the brain. Literature is particularly rich in that it employs a wide range of mental capacities working intimately in concert with one another. It seems all but impossible that we could unobtrusively instrument a person’s brain so that we could record neural activities, in detail, as that person goes about daily life. But we can certainly observe what’s going on in a person’s brain as they read or listen to literature, or watch a movie – such work has been going on for well over a decade. What might we learn from “Kubla Khan” and, in particular, from the difference between “Kubla Khan” and “This Lime Tree Bower My Prison”? I don’t know. We’re just going to have to do it and see. Is it possible? I’m not one to judge. But when I was working on my book about music, Beethoven’s Anvil, I had the privilege of corresponding with the late Walter Freeman, who pioneered the us of complex dynamics in understanding the brain. I once put the question to him in the following email: Walter, I've had another crazy idea. I've been thinking about Haken's remark that the trick to dealing with dynamical systems is to find phenomena of low dimensionality in them. What I think is that that is what poetic form does for language. The meaning of any reasonable hunk of language is a trajectory in a space of very high dimensionality. Poetic form "carves out" a few dimensions of that space and makes them "sharable" so that "I" and "Thou" can meet in aesthetic contemplation. So, what does this mean? One standard analytic technique is to discover binary oppositions in the text and see how they are treated. In KK Coleridge has a pile of them, human vs. natural, male vs. female, auditory vs. visual, expressive vs. volitional, etc. So, I'm thinking of making a table with one column for each line of the poem and then other columns for each of these "induced" dimensions. I then score the content of each line on each dimension, say +, - and 0. That set of scores, taken in order from first to last line, is the poem's trajectory through a low dimensional projection or compression of the brain's state space. The trick, of course, is to pull those dimensions out of the EEG data. Having a sound recording of the reading might be useful. What happens if you use the amplitude envelope of the sound recording to "filter" the EEG data? Later, Bill B Freemans’ response? 12  Not crazy, Bill, but technologically challenging! Will keep on file and get back to you. “Not crazy” is good enough for me. As far as I’m concerned, the game is afoot. But someone else is going to have to do the heavy lifting on this one, for it requires mathematical skills I lack, extensive knowledge of neurophysiology and processes, and access to sophisticated equipment. It will likely take several villages of researchers to do this research over I don’t know how many decades, if not intellectual generations. I would expect them to find that “Kubla Khan” and “This Lime-Tree Bower” take orthogonal paths through the mind’s state space and that the paths for the other Conversation poems – “The Aeolian Harp”, “Frost at Midnight”, and “The Nightingale” – run parallel with that of “Lime-Tree Bower” and thus orthogonal to that of “Kubla Khan”. The paths of the Conversation poets are fundamentally narrative and personal; these paths reveal the unfolding of subjectivity in time. The path of “Kubla Khan” is ontological and impersonal. It displays the structure of being. I would expect these future investigators to find much else as well. As always, more later. 13 Appendix 1: “Kubla Khan” First movement 1.1 1.11 1.111 In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 1 A stately pleasure-dome decree: 2 1.112 Where Alph, the sacred river, ran 3 Through caverns measureless to man 4 Down to a sunless sea. 5 1.12 1.121 So twice five miles of fertile ground 6 With walls and towers were girdled round: 7 1.122 1.1221 And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, 8 Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; 9 1.1222 And here were forests ancient as the hills, 10 Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. 11 1.2 1.21 1.211 But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted 12 Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! 13 1.212 A savage place! as holy and enchanted 14 As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted 15 By woman wailing for her demon lover! 16 1.22 1.221 And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething 17 As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, 18 A mighty fountain momently was forced: 19 1.222 Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst 20 Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, 21 Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail: 22 1.223 And ‘mid these dancing rocks at once and ever 23 It flung up momently the sacred river. 24 1.23 1.231 1.2311 Five miles meandering with a mazy motion 25 Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, 26 1.2312 Then reached the caverns endless to man, 27 And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: 28 1.232 And ‘mid this tumult Kubla heard from far 29 Ancestral voices prophesying war! 30 1.3 1.31 1.311 The shadow of the dome of pleasure 31 Floated midway on the waves; 32 1.312 Where was heard the mingled measure 33 From the fountain and the caves. 34 1.32 1.321 It was a miracle of rare device, 35 1.322 A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! 36 14 Second movement 2.1 2.11 A damsel with a dulcimer 37 In a vision once I saw: 38 2.12 It was an Abyssinian maid, 39 And on her dulcimer she played, 40 Singing of Mount Abora. 41 2.2 2.21 2.211 Could I revive within me 42 Her symphony and song, 43 2.212 To such a deep delight ‘twould win me 44 2.22 2.221 That with music loud and long, 45 I would build that dome in air, 46 2.222 That sunny dome! those caves of ice! 47 2.223 And all who heard should see them there, 48 2.23 2.231 And all should cry, 49a 2.232 Beware! Beware! 49b His flashing eyes, his floating hair! 50 2.3 2.31 Weave a circle round him thrice, 51 And close your eyes with holy dread, 52 2.32 For he on honey-dew hath fed, 53 And drunk the milk of Paradise. 54 15 Appendix 2: “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison” 1 1.1 1.11 1.111 Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, 1 This lime-tree bower my prison! 2 1.112 I have lost 2 Beauties and feelings, such as would have been 3 Most sweet to my remembrance even when age 4 Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! 5 1.12 1.121 They, meanwhile, 5 Friends, whom I never more may meet again, 6 On springy heath, along the hill-top edge, 7 Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, 8 To that still roaring dell, of which I told; 9 1.122 The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, 10 And only speckled by the mid-day sun; 11 Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock 12 Flings arching like a bridge;--that branchless ash, 13 Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves 14 Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still, 15 Fann'd by the water-fall! 16a 1.123 and there my friends 16b Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds, 17 That all at once (a most fantastic sight!) 18 Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge 19 Of the blue clay-stone. 20 1.2 1.21 1.211 Now, my friends emerge 20 Beneath the wide wide Heaven--and view again 21 The many-steepled tract magnificent 22 Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea 23 With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up 24 The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles 25 Of purple shadow! 26 1.212 Yes! they wander on 26 In gladness all; but thou, methinks, most glad, 27 My gentle-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined 28 And hunger'd after Nature, many a year, 29 In the great City pent, winning thy way 30 With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain 31 And strange calamity! 32 1.22 1.221 Ah! slowly sink 32 Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! 33 Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, 34 Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! 35 Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! 36 And kindle, thou blue Ocean! 37 1.222 So my friend 37 Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, 38 Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round 39 On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem 40 Less gross than bodily; and of such hues 41 As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes 42 Spirits perceive his presence. 43 16 2 2.1 2.11 2.111 A delight 43 Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad 44 As I myself were there! 45 2.112 Nor in this bower, 45 This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd 46 Much that has sooth'd me. 47 2.1 2.121 Pale beneath the blaze 47 Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch'd 48 Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov'd to see 49 The shadow of the leaf and stem above 50 Dappling its sunshine! 51 2.122 And that walnut-tree 51 Was richly ting'd, and a deep radiance lay 52 Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps 53 Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass 54 Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue 55 Through the late twilight: 56 2.123 and though now the bat 56 Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters, 57 Yet still the solitary humble-bee 58 Sings in the bean-flower! 59 2.2 2.21 Henceforth I shall know 59 That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure; 60 No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, 61 No waste so vacant, but may well employ 62 Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart 63 Awake to Love and Beauty! 64 and sometimes 64 'Tis well to be bereft of promis'd good, 65 That we may lift the soul, and contemplate 66 With lively joy the joys we cannot share. 67 2.22 My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook 68 Beat its straight path across the dusky air 69 Homewards, I blest it! 70 deeming its black wing 70 (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) 71 Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory, 72 While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still, 73 Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm 74 For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom 75 No sound is dissonant which tells of Life. 76 17 References [1] The Problem of Form in “Kubla Khan”, Working Paper, November 29, 2017, 13 pp., https://www.academia.edu/35275862/The_problem_of_form_in_Kubla_Khan_ [2] David D. Hays, Networks, Cognitive, In (Allen Kent, Harold Lancour, Jay E. Daily, eds.): Encyclopedia of Library and Information Science, Vol. 19. Marcel Dekker, Inc., NY 1976, 281-300. [3] Cognitive Networks and Literary Semantics, MLN 91: 1976, 952-982. https://www.academia.edu/235111/Cognitive_Networks_and_Literary_Semantics [4] Lamb, Sydney M. (1998). Pathways of the Brain. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. [5] The Roman numerals have no significance that matters for the argument. I needed some symbol to perform a rhetorical function and they seemed appropriate. But the particular values I chose embody something of a joke. ‘XXIV’ is ‘24’ in decimal notation and ‘24’ has the same digits as ‘42’ except in reverse order. Expressed in Roman numerals ‘42” becomes ‘XLII’, which shows up at the very end, where it is a proxy for ‘Paradise’. And ‘42’, of course, is the number Douglas Adams choose to be the meaning of life as calculated by a computer in one of his books. [6] “Kubla Khan” and the Embodied Mind, PsyArt: A Hyperlink Journal for the Psychological Study of the Arts, November 29, 2003. https://www.academia.edu/8810242/_Kubla_Khan_and_the_Embodied_Mind [7] William Benzon and David G. Hays, Metaphor, Recognition, and Neural Process, American Journal of Semiotics 5: 59 - 79, 1987. https://www.academia.edu/238608/Metaphor_Recognition_and_Neural_Process [8] Richard Lattimore, trans. 1951 The Iliad of Homer. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. [9] Talking with Nature in “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison”, PsyArt: A Hyperlink Journal for the Psychological Study of the Arts, November, 2004. https://www.academia.edu/8345952/Talking_with_Nature_in_This_Lime- Tree_Bower_My_Prison_ [10] STC, Poetic Form, and a Glimpse of the Mind, Working Paper, November 2013, 45 pp. https://www.academia.edu/8139268/STC_Poetic_Form_and_a_Glimpse_of_the_Mind [11] Metaphoric and Metonymic Invariance: Two Examples from Coleridge, MLN 96: 1097 - 1105, 1981. https://www.academia.edu/35168392/Metaphoric_and_Metonymic_Invariance_Two_ Examples_from_Coleridge [12] “Curiouser and curiouser” seems to be a popular tatoo. Do a search on the phrase, you’ll see. 18 19