Chang-Park !

Didi Chang-Park
9 April 2018
COMPLIT301

On Generative Metaphor:
An Aristotelian Homology for the Baroque

0. Homology of the Baroque

Motivar el signo barroco, fundamentarlo hoy sin que la operación implique un residuo
moral, no podría lograrse si se pretende una concordancia de orden semántico, un
acuerdo de sentido entre la palabra y la cosa; donde se instaura un sentido último, una
verdad plena y central, la singularidad de significado, se habrá instaurado la culpa, la
caída. A la manía definidora, al vértigo del génesis, opondríamos una homología
estructural entre el producto barroco paradigmático —la joya— y la forma de la
expresión barroco: analogía que articula al referente con el significante, primero
considerando la distribución de los elementos vocálicos, luego su grafismo: […]

Severo Sarduy, “Barroco — I. La Palabra “Barroco”,” pp 50, emph. mine

In evolutionary biology, “homology” refers to the appearance of similar traits in different

organisms, regardless of function. The term was given definition in 1843 by the comparative
anatomist Richard Owen1, but the concept, in its most basic form, can be traced back to the
works of Aristotle. The categories of “genus” (genos), “species” (eidos), and “differentiae”
(diaphora) were used by Aristotle not only to produce taxonomies of animal and plant species
but to more generally describe relations of “essential predication” based in his system of logic
and his metaphysical philosophy. The terms, and their underlying homological framework, may
be thought of as direct consequences or responses to various epistemological difficulties arising
from the syllogistic logic he had developed in Prior Analytics. In this way, we can think of
syllogism as the root of homology. And in turn, we may note that it is in syllogism where a
primordial fossil of the Baroque might be found. Of the twenty-four syllogisms Aristotle
describes, baroco —as named by the Scholastics several centuries later— moves from a premise

1 Homologue...The same organ in different animals under every variety of form and
function....Analogue...A part or organ in one animal which has the same function as another part or organ
in a different animal. (Owen, “Lectures on Comparative Anatomy and Physiology of the Invertebrate
Animals,” pp. 379, 374)
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of form A (a universal affirmative, such as “all cats are animals”) and a second premise of form
O (particular negative, such as “not all cute things are animals”) to a conclusion of form O (“not
all cute things are cats”) — bArOcO. Distilled in this way, the deductive form may seem quite
distant from the aesthetic, thematic, stylistic, and historical considerations relevant to a literary
scholar of the Baroque. Yet a close reading of Sarduy’s introductory paragraph to the Baroque
warrants, perhaps, further investigation. To the manía definidora of the Baroque, he presents a
structural homology. To the gem-like vowels, bien engarzadas, he places the Baroque “form of
expression” — its argucia. In the vértigo del génesis, where better to start with the word itself?
The difficulty of forming a clear, structured, and generative notion of the Baroque is
brought quite plainly to life in any reading of any set of “Baroque” texts. Can the púrpura of
Góngora be reconciled with the earnest finjamos of Sor Juana? Can Haroldo de Campos’
uniquely Brazilian, anthropophagic vision of the neobaroque be linked to the deferred signifiers
and cosmological maquettes of Sarduy under a common framework that still gives fruition to the
most unique ideas of each? It is under this set of concerns—this veritable mania definidora—
that I have arrived at the following investigations. Thus I begin by offering the reader a basic,
provisional framework of what is to follow:
1. Homology offers a basic manner of structuring the experience of a complex system of
disparate group of objects, by way of taxonomic tree.
2. Homology is fundamentally based on the presence of a unifying first cause.
3. Homology is necessarily insufficient. It is not possible to produce a single taxonomical
tree for complex systems. This is quite specifically substantiated by various
developments in evolutionary biology, wherein homology has been supplanted by more
nuanced phylogenetic approaches. This is also broadly substantiated by the Baroque.
4. Frameworks which replace homology are still, in some sense, based on it. It is therefore
useful, if not necessary, to begin any sufficient investigation of a complex system with a
statement of its basic homological form, and then to consider possible responses or
outgrowths to its primary image.
5. I form the following literary investigation of the Baroque by positing a basic homology
of language that will be formed upon Aristotelian definitions of syllogism and metaphor.
6. I challenge the basic homology by applying it to the poem “Muerte de Narciso” by José
Lezama Lima, itself a complex sub-system of the Baroque.
7. I am not concerned, in this study, with revealing the first cause, the apex, the root, the
seed of the Baroque.
8. Instead, I am interested in demonstrating possible generative forms of the Baroque,
which I locate specifically in the tekhne of metaphor, as it arises in “Muerte de Narciso.”
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9. Any reader interested in experiencing “first causes” in a more direct manner should skip
the following arguments and read a copy of the poem.
10. This paper, which presents a theory-in-progress, is necessarily incomplete. It is therefore
advised that the reader approach it with a good degree of skepticism and, hopefully, a
desire to improve upon its ideas.

II. The Syllogistic — Baroco

There are perhaps as many ways of presenting the syllogism as there are ways of
translating the Aristotelian text from which it came. What I would like to initially emphasize here
is the ordering of concepts in Aristotle’s presentation, as well as the primacy it places on the
definition of the words which form its logic. As the words “premise,” “term,” “syllogism,” and
“predication” are defined, they build towards the presentation of a system purely defined by its
own productivity — in which two statements give rise to a third, distinct from its predecessors.
Distant as the abstraction of the syllogism may seem from the aesthetic experience of reading
literature, there is thus a sense in which it forms an embryonic structure of language that perhaps
mirrors various strands of the Baroque. With that, I begin a presentation of Aristotle’s syllogistic,
as leads to the Baroco.
Aristotle begins his discussion of syllogism in Prior Analytics I by first by stating the
scope of his inquiry: demonstration (apodeixis) — or “demonstrative science.” Next, he gives a
list of terms which he wishes to define; among them premise, term, and syllogism, perfect and
imperfect syllogism, and predication. A “premise” (protasis) take on affirmative or negative
stance with regard to a subject, and may be universal, or particular, or indefinite. Universal
premises apply to all or none of a subject, particular premises apply (or do not apply) to a
specific set of a given subject, and indefinite statements are neither universal nor particular— an
example he gives is “pleasure is not good.” Presumably the universal and particular versions of
this would be “all (or no) pleasure is good” and “some pleasure is (not) good,” respectively
(199). A “term” (holos) is the subject or the predicate of a sentence, linked with the verb “to be”
or “not to be.” With “premise” and “term” now defined, we can understand a premise as a
sentence consisting of two terms: a subject and a predicate, which takes a universal, particular, or
indefinite, affirmative or negative stance with regard to the former term.
Aristotle then presents the syllogism as “a form of words in which, when certain
assumptions are made, something other than what has been assumed necessarily follows from the
fact that the assumptions are such.” (203). Because he does not explicitly define the syllogism in
terms of his two prior terms, of “premise” and “term,” I provide here my own gloss of the
definition: a syllogism is a form of words in which two premises each of which is comprised of
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two terms, a predicate and a subject) produce a third premise called “a conclusion.” He then
introduces the distinction between “perfect” (teleios) and “imperfect” (atelês) syllogisms. Perfect
syllogisms require no other statements than what it is comprised of for its conclusion to follow,
while imperfect syllogisms require “one or more propositions which, although they necessarily
follow from the terms which have been laid down, are not comprised in the premises.” As we
will see, the baroco syllogism is one such imperfect syllogism.
Following this, Aristotle finally defines predication, by stating that “for one term to be
wholly contained in another is the same as for the latter to be predicated of all of the former.” We
can understand predication thus as a relationship of “containment” — it has been variously
translated in English as “B applies to every A” or “A belongs to B,” but as Robin Smith points
out in his Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy entry on “Aristotle’s Logic,” the original
verb huparchein might be translated more literally as to “begin,” to “exist,” or to “be present.”
Aristotle then returns to the idea of the premise to show how they take form as sentences
involving two terms, the subject and predicate, linked by the predicative relation of “to be,” in
their affirmative or negative, universal, particular, or indefinite forms. He also discusses the
behavior of assertoric, apodeictic, and problematic types of premises, but for our purposes this
discussion is not relevant—and in this syllogistic he only treats the assertoric type (see his
treatment of modal syllogism for the other two). Finally, he introduces conversion rules between
different types of premises: aEb converts to bEa, aIb to bIa, and aAb to bIa. The types of
premises and their predicative relationships are commonly visualized through the diagram
termed the “square of opposition,” which I have produced below, and in which I have introduced
the shorthand notation aAb, aEb, aIb, and aOb. Note that in this scheme, the null case is not
included in the particular cases: “not every a is b” implies that there exists some a which is b;
otherwise this would reduce to the universal negative. Likewise, “some a is b” implies that not
all a is b, otherwise the affirmative particular would reducing to the universal affirmative (hence
their relation of “subalternity”). This will be important to remember in some of the examples
later.

contrary
aAb aEb
every a is b no a is b

A
F
N
F
E
subaltern contradictory subaltern
I G

R O
M
O
aOb
aIb not every a
some a is b
subcontrary is b
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Having set up the main framework for syllogism, From this, Aristotle proceeds to go
through all possible syllogisms by dividing them into three figures, which involve different
combinations of terms a, b, and c.

First figure Second figure Third figure

Predicate Subject Predicate Subject Predicate Subject

Premise 1 a b a b a c

Premise 2 b c a c b c

Conclusion a c b c a b

In the first figure, the subject of the first premise and the predicate of the second premise are
shared; in the second figure, the predicates are shared; and in the third figure, the subjects are
shared.
Aristotle then traces through each one of the 24 possible syllogisms (four possibilities for
each of the two premises, and three figures: 4x2x3=24) and then finds from them only 14 valid
ones:
Figure 1: Barbara (AAA), Celarent (EAE), Darii (AII), Ferio (EIO)
Figure 2: Cesare (EAE), Camestres (AEE), Festino (EIO), Baroco (AOO)
Figure 3: Darapti (AAI), Felapton (EAO), Disamis (IAI), Datisi (AII),
Bocardo (OAO), Ferison (EIO)

Of these fourteen valid syllogisms, only X are perfect. For instance in the case of Barbara, the
premises “All A are B, All B are C” imply the conclusion “All A are C” without the need for an
external term. Of the imperfect, X are reducible to perfect forms through the use of the
conversion rules outlined above — a process he terms “probation” (deiktikos). For instance, in
the case of Cesare (“No A is B, All A are C”), the first premise may be converted to “No B is A,”
so that the syllogism becomes equivalent to Celarent: “No B is A, All A are C,” therefore “No B
is C.” Yet two remain — Baroco and Bocardo, which must be proven “through the
impossible” (dia tou adunatou). In these two syllogisms, a foreign premise (ekthesis) must be
asserted in order to perform the proof. This process resembles what we might call a “proof by
contradiction,” as shown in the statement of Baroco below:

if M applies to every N (Premise 1, A)

but M does not apply to every O (Premise 2, O)
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it must follow that N does not apply to every O (Conclusion, O)

Proof:
for if N applies to all O, (Ekthesis, A)
and M applies to all N, (Premise 1, A)
M must apply to all O. (Barbara, A)
But M does not apply to every O.

Now that we have a formal statement of the Baroco syllogism, we might now attempt to
apply it to real entities in the world, to ask what the syllogism means, in terms of such worldly
understanding. I thus present tree diagrams visualizing: (1) a valid manifestation of the Baroco
syllogism, (2) a questionable manifestation of Baroco, and (3) a diagram of its ekthesis.

animal (M) animal (M) animal (M)

okra

cat (N) teapot cat (N) cat (N)

? slimy (O)
black (O) tabby (O)

Baroco: MaN, MoO⇒NoO Baroco: MaN, MoO⇒NoO Ekthesis: N applies to all O

In the ekthesis, the relations between M, N, and O are completely self-contained and clear: a
tabby is a type of cat is a type of animal. This is precisely the case that Baroco rules out. The two
diagrams for Baroco on the left, however, both impel us to ask questions about the structure of
the tree and the meanings of the terms involved. First of all, regard the choice of “black” in the
first diagram. This rather generic adjective which could apply to any number of other objects —
a teapot, or a car, or even an abstract noun such as “love.” This is how we know that the second
premise and conclusion of the syllogism are satisfied. But what does it mean to speak of a “black
love?” Are there any common characteristics between possible choices for O? Do they fall under
certain grammatical categories, or do they have semantic bounds as well? The metaphoric
possibilities opened up by these Baroco tree is more forcefully produced in the second choice of
“slimy” for O, which yields the conclusion that some, but not all cats are slimy 2. This doesn’t

2 It may be tempting to say that this example is a case of AOO which falls under the AOE progression, but
remember that the particular negative does not include the null case, therefore the syllogism requires that
some cats are slimy. Additionally, AOE is not recognized as a valid syllogism by Aristotle.
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seem to hold true to our empirical knowledge of the real world, yet the tree forces us to consider
the compelling possibility of such an entity. Thus Baroco opens up epistemic, and as we have
already initiated—metaphoric— questions.

III. Genus, species, nous, ser causal.

We have already developed perhaps a cursory “genus-species” in the very diagramming

of the trees, but I would like to contextualize this more carefully in terms of the epistemological
questions Aristotle asks in Posterior Analytics, Book II. There he begins his investigations by
defining four types of questions which correspond to the “things that we know:” questions of
fact, cause, existence, and essence (175). Questions of fact and existence, such as “Does the
moon wax?” and “Does the moon exist?” lead to the causal questions “What is the cause for the
moon to wax?” and “What is the cause for the moon to exist?,” which finally reduce to questions
of existence: “What is the moon?” and “what is it to wax?”, respectively. Thus the questions of
fact and existence lead to questions of cause, and finally of essence. From the question of
essence then arises the concept of definition, which Aristotle variously describes as being “of the
essence or essential nature,” or “exhibit[ing] the essence.” (185). He then proceeds to ask
whether demonstration and definition coincide. Presumably if we can demonstrate (by way of
syllogism, for instance) definition, then we have been able to grasp the essence of things.
However, definition and demonstration not only fail to coincide, but are mutually exclusive,
since every demonstration “assume[s] the essence as a received fact,” and definition is predicated
on nothing. The discussion of this impossibility is quite lengthy and interesting, but for the
purposes of this investigation I jump ahead to Aristotle’s claim that although syllogism and
demonstration do not “admit” essence, “it is through [them] that it [essence] becomes clear to
us.” (205).
How so? One of ways in which Aristotle attacks the problem of essence is to propose a
genus-species relationship based on essential predication (katêgoreisthai en tôi ti esti,
“predication in the what it is.”). A genus is “that which is predicated in the category of essence”
of several things which differ in kind. Stated formally, if X is an essential predicate of Y but also
of other things which are different (diaphora), then X is a genus of Y, and Y a species of X. On
how to form essential predications, Aristotle simply writes that “Predicates in the category of
essence may be described as such things as are fittingly contained in the reply of one who has
been asked “What is the object before you?” (Topics I, 283). While genus-species relations in
this respect are not entirely clearly defined, we might look to the earlier cat-animal example as
an instance of the clarifying capacity of genus-species predication in the works — it seems to get
closer to the essence of a cat to call it an animal than to say that it meows, or to call it black. In
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fact, Aristotle gives names to these two latter attributes as well: property and accident,
respectively. A property (idion) of a thing “convertibly predicates” it, so that if A predicates B, B
also predicates A. All cats meow, all meowing things are cats. An accident (sumbebêkos) is
neither a property nor a genus nor a definition; it can belong or not belong to a thing— as is the
case with the color black in relation to the cat (285). This already helps us understand something
about the possible relations to genus, species, property, and accident might have to the
possibilities or mechanics of metaphor. Is there perhaps something about the non-definitive
natures of property and accident which allow “black,” “slimy,” and even “meow” the capacity to
be applied in metaphorical ways —“the black heart,” “the slimy cat,” and to add a third, “the
rose meows”? Do statements involving essential categories — such as “the black animal,” “the
slimy animal,” and “the meowing animal” lose their metaphorical resonance due to a relationship
of essential predication already determined in some taxonomical tree?
Before moving on to address these questions, I’d like to end this section by noting the
importance of cause, which for Aristotle is actually equivalent to essence3. In section 19 of
Posterior Analytics, he once again asks how we reach knowledge of first principles (that upon
which scientific deduction is based), and deduces that there is no way for knowledge of first
principles to arise through deduction4. He thus introduces the notion of nous, commonly
translated as “intelligence” or “intuition,” a faculty which allows us to apprehend the first causes.
The notion of the first cause seems to correspond quite directly to the homological framework
more broadly, in which the top of a taxonomic tree may be thought of as the “first cause” for all
that it predicates. This nous bears a close resemblance to José Lezama Lima’s own idea of a
poetic ser causal engendered by the strife between “la causalidad y lo incondicionado,” as
developed in his essay “Preludio a las eras imaginarias.”5 Given the multiplicity of definitions
Lezama Lima seems to accord to these terms, I hesitate on providing an enclosed definition here
—instead I would simply like to highlight here that he links them directly to metaphor. He first
defines two subsidiary terms, “la vivencia oblicua” and “el súbito,” which are the result of “la
causalidad actuando sobre lo incondicionado” in the first case, and “lo incondicionado actuando

3 “knowledge of essence is the same as the knowledge of cause” (179).

4 “Therefore, since we possess no other infallible faculty besides scientific knowledge, the source from
which such knowledge starts must be intuition [nous]. Thus it will be the primary source of scientific
knowledge that apprehends the first principles, while scientific knowledge as a whole is similarly related
to the whole world of facts.” (261).
5“El poema es el testimonio o la imagen de ese ser causal para la resurrección, verificable cuando el
potens de la poesía, la posibilidad de su creación en la infinitud, actúa sobre el continuo de las eras
imaginarias. (“Preludio a las eras imaginarias,” 820)
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sobre la causalidad” in the latter. These two forces acting together give rise to “la posibilidad
infínita,”6 “el árbol,”7 and eventually el poeta, who is also described as el ser causal:
“Sólo el poeta, dueño del acto operando en el germen, que no obstante sigue siendo
creación, llega a ser causal, a reducir, por la metáfora, a materia comparativa la
totalidad.” (819).
One might go so far as to say that a homology exists between Aristotelian and Lezamanian
notions of causality lying at the root of being — that Aristotle’s notion of the mutually exclusive
nature of scientific knowledge and first principles is homologous to Lezama’s twin concepts of
the causal and the unconditioned. It would constitute a separate paper to investigate this
connection with the depth and fullness which it deserves, so for now I will simply leave this
suggestion open, and to prime the reader’s mind with the possible linkages that might exist —
genealogical, homological, atemporal, nonlocal, causal, non-causal — between metaphor and the
philosophical systems of the two spatiotemporally distant authors.

IV. Metaphor

In the Poetics, Aristotle defines four types of metaphor, where metaphor “is the
application of a word that belongs to another thing” (105). I enumerate the types below:

1. Term transferred from the genus to the species

2. Term transferred from the species to the genus
3. From one species to another
4. By way of analogy
Given analogy of the form b:a :: d:c,
d replaces b, or b replaces d

The genus and species distinction invoked here clearly builds off of his previous analytical
works, from the syllogistic onward, and as I have done for the baroco syllogism, I construct tree
diagrams for each type, using his own examples:

6“Ese intercambio entre la vivencia oblicua y el súbito crea, como ya hemos esbozado, el incondicionado
condicionante, es decir, el potens, la posibilidad finita." (816).
7 Ese reobrar del acto sobre el germen engendra un ser causal, nutrido con los inmensos recursos de la
vivencia oblicua y un súbito, que hacen la extensión creadora, dándole un árbol a esa extensión, haciendo
del árbol el uno, el esse sustancialis, y aquí comienza la nueva fiesta de la poesía, el potens, el posible en
la infinitud.” (817)
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METAPHOR OF TYPE 1

“My ship stands here” stand

Genus: Standing
Species: Mooring
moor …..

METAPHOR OF TYPE 2

“Ten thousand noble deeds has Odysseus accomplished” many

Genus: Many
Species: Ten thousand ten thousand …..

METAPHOR OF TYPE 3

“Drawing off the life with bronze8” or removing

“Cutting with slender-edged bronze 9”
Genus: Removing
draw off cut …..
Species: Drawing off, Cutting

METAPHOR OF TYPE 4
Dionysus Ares
a) “Dionysus’ shield” or “Ares’ wine bowl”
wine bowl : Dionysus :: shield : Ares shield
wine bowl

life day
b) The day’s old age, the evening of life / life’s sunset
old age : life :: evening : day
old age evening

“in some cases of analogy no current term exists”

c) “sowing his divine fire” sow[er] sun
seed : sow[er] :: [sun’s release of fire] : sun
seed release fire
8 Image is the kiling of an animal
9 Image is the filling of a bronze vessel with water
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“predicating the borrowed term while denying one of its attributes” Dionysus Ares
a´) “Ares’ wine bowl” — “wineless wine bowl.”
wine bowl : Dionysus :: shield : Ares wine bowl shield

wineless ….

My idea of drawing tree diagrams to illustrate these metaphors was directly inspired by
Samuel R. Levin’s use of such trees in his article “Aristotle’s Theory of Metaphor.” According to
Levin, types 1, 2, and 3, involve a form of generic substitution which rests upon a previously
determined “hierarchy of ontological classes.” They serve the pedagogical purpose of illustrating
conceptual connections which may not yet exist in linguistic expression. Metaphor thus arises
“when such a gap is filled for the first time.”10 (26). Still, these substitution-type metaphors only
exhibit “categories and the relationship between them [which] exist a priori [….] it is only in
Aristotle’s analogical type of metaphor that knowledge of a significant kind is imparted.” (28).
This line of reasoning is used by Levin to explain why metaphors of type 4 seem to hold greater
metaphorical value, while the first three seem relatively flat to the modern reader.
However, I’d like to argue that the analogical metaphors, metaphors of type 4, may also
be reconciled under a also a framework of predetermined ontological classes, and that the main
difference between metaphors of types 1-3 and those of type 4 arises from the number of levels
in the tree. Metaphors of type 1-2 can be reconciled into metaphors of type 3 by reconciling the
substituted terms as sister nodes, which is to say nodes which exist on the same level of a tree,
directly governed by the same mother (root) node:

Stand Stillness

Moor …..
moor stand paralyze ….

Many Maniness

Ten thousand ….. ten thousand many a zillion ….

10 “This principle of (generic) substitution holds good for the abstract relations that obtain within the
hierarchy of ontological classes. At any given time, however, the relation may not yet have been seized
upon and given expression. The language, in other words, may suffer gaps. For Aristotle, when such a gap
is filled for the first time, the result is a metaphor.” (26)
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The analogic relations offered in Metaphors of Type 4 can also be reconciled under
common root nodes, which may be formed by comparing the terms of the analogy and their
relations to one another in order to generate the most strong intersection between the two. So,
given analogy of the form b:a :: d:c, we can either generate the “mother” node of the tree by
finding commonalities in the relationship <a, c>, or by finding commonalities in the relationships
<a, b> and <c, d>.11 In case 4(a), we decide upon the mother node “Gods” because the
connection in <Dionysus, Ares> is perhaps more salient than the relation “Possessor” that we
might have noticed between <Dionysus, wine bowl> and <Ares, shield>. In 4(b), we determine
that the most salient connection between the terms of the analogy exists between <life, old age>
and <day, evening> — both pairs representing “units of time”— though we could very well have
attempted to form a genetic relationship between <life, day> as being “related to the growth of
plants.” Example 4(c) functions in a similar way.

Completed metaphors of Type 4

4(a) 4(b) 4(c)

Gods Units of time Sources

Dionysus Ares life day sow[er] sun

wine bowl shield old age evening seed release fire

wineless ….

In this way we show that metaphors of type four are also reconcilable under predetermined
ontological hierarchies. It may take a little bit more mental effort to form these hierarchies, but
they are almost immediately and automatically created by most readers, which perhaps explains
why these metaphors are not terribly provocative or interesting either.
But what if we consider a modification on the metaphor of type 2, “Ten thousand noble
deeds Odysseus has accomplished”? Suppose we change it to “A swarm of noble deeds Odysseus
has accomplished.” While we could consider “swarm" to exist in the tree on same level as
“many” or “ten thousand" as yet another form of “maniness,” more readers would likely

11 Aristotleon analogy: “Likeness must be examined in things belonging to different genera—as a is to B,

so is C to D […] We must examine also things which are in the same genus, to see if there is any attribute
belonging to them all which is the same, for example, to a man, a horse and a dog; for they are alike in as
far as any attribute which they possess is the same.” (Topica, 323)
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associate “swarm” with bees before associating it with“many-ness.” To borrow I.A. Richard’s
terminology, the vehicle becomes “bees” rather than “many-ness,” and the ground becomes
complete unclear due to the difficulty of immediately forming a common root node of the tree
containing both the “swarm” and the “noble deeds.” The “swarm of noble deeds” metaphor
would begin to take on “bee-like” traits as well, even if we were conscious of the fact that
“many-ness” could serve as a more direct common ground. This seems to hold true for the earlier
example we created in the aftermath of the baroco syllogism of the “slimy cat” — if we know
that the “slime” refers to okra, for instance, the cat begins to take on okra-like qualities in our
minds — I begin to envision a green cat, a slightly fuzzy cat, etc. Aristotle notices this also in the
case of “Ares’ wineless wine bowl,” where he applies not just the wine bowl, but an inherited
trait of the wine bowl, to Ares as well. This seems to reveal that when a metaphor occurs
between a node A and her sister node B in a tree, she will necessarily inherit all of the traits of
her sister B.

Life forms Gods ?

Cat Okra Dionysus Ares

green slimy …. wine bowl shield

Bees Great deeds

wineless ….
swarm ….

This notion of inheritance perhaps explains why the metaphors of type 1, 2, and 3 seem to lack
vividness — because they occur between sisters with no children, they simply inherit exactly
what they substitute, and no more.

Ship Great deeds

Stillness
Maniness

moor stand paralyze …. ten thousand many a zillion ….

 Chang-Park !14

Note that in the diagram for “A swarm of noble deeds Odysseus has accomplished” I
have drawn a triangle to represent the possible forms of the tree which we cannot readily
identify. The difficulty of generating a ground perhaps caused by the vertiginous multitude of
possible orientations of the tree, and serves as a strong reminder of the fact that any given tree
diagram is subjectively formed by the agent who perceives the metaphor, and that there are
therefore that the perception of metaphor is therefore causally structured. The mind of the
perceiver decides what genus and species relations exist, and what root node lies at the top of the
tree, if such a root is readily identifiable. This causal aspect of tree formation goes back to the
Aristotelian notion of nous or “intuition” and to Lezama Lima’s notion of metaphor as created by
a ser causal. In a sense, the difficulty of forming the trees, and the mental action which goes on
in the attempt to do so, allows us to visualize the strangeness and distance certain metaphors
provoke, as well as the lack of metaphorical effect in the substitutions among sister nodes, as is
the case in the figures for metaphors of type 1, 2, and 3, where the first trees formed are
constituted of only two levels. Accordingly, the causal nature of the trees reveals to us the fact
that we could ostensibly form more “interesting” metaphors, more surprising manners of
perceiving language, if we construct more complex trees — perhaps the relatively mundane
quality of “the ship stands” could be replaced with something far more interesting in the
construction of a multi-leveled tree.

IV. MUERTE DE NARCISO

It must be noted that the tree diagrams we have developed thus far to understand
metaphor are based on our ability to form predicative relations between entities — individual
words, specifically — in a hierarchical manner, based on our empirical knowledge of the world.
Moreover, the metaphors we have seen are fragments that may stand alone from a larger textual
context. In the real world, metaphors rarely appear in such laboratory conditions, and are
necessarily influenced by the language surrounding them. “Muerte de Narciso” is perhaps an
extreme case of metaphorical “entanglement.” Certain key words and images show up repeatedly
in the poem in different contexts such that they become almost entirely defamiliarized, wrested
from the meanings they would more typically take on outside of the poem. This makes it difficult
to form relationships of hierarchical predication between words, and renders the distinction
between “literal” and “figurative” perhaps entirely irrelevant.
Consider, for instance, the appearance of the word “abeja”:
“no preguntan corales en estrías de abejas […]”
“Si se aleja, recta abeja, el espejo destroza el río mudo.”
“Chorro de abejas increadas muerden la estela […]”
 Chang-Park !15

The difficulty of linking these manifestations of “abeja” to preconceived notions of bee-behavior

encourages readers to form their knowledge of the “abeja” based on the behavior of the bee
within the poem. In order to form this knowledge, the reader may form associations on the level
of the word, the line, or the stanza. In the first case, one might associate the “abeja” with the set
of verbs and adjectives which directly modify it, such as “estrías,” “recta,” or “chorro.” In the
second case, one might notice other words that occur in the same line, such as “la estela” or “el
espejo.” And on the third, one might consider lines occurring adjacently, or in the same stanza, in
relation to the lines which do contain the “abeja.”
Given this new epistemological framework, how are we to understand metaphor?
Between what types of terms do metaphors occur? In our previous Aristotelian system, metaphor
occurred between words, which in their individuality corresponded to previously determined
ontological categories, to our noumenal notions of what an object is. Because we had stable
notions of what words represent, we were able to form relations of essential predication, in
which, for instance, “all cats are animals.” These relationships of predication gave trees
hierarchical structures with different levels, in which nodes on the same level, “sisters,” could
inherit one another’s qualities, thus creating metaphorical effects. In “Muerte de Narciso,” a
word is defined not by its essential characteristics, but by the set of words that modify it, lines
which border it, stanzas which contain it. We can no longer form relationships of essential
predication because a line which contains a word can also be said to be contained by the word; a
word which is contained by a stanza contains the stanza, the word contained by a poem contains
the poem. And because we cannot perform essential predication, we cannot use the previous
notion of inheritance between sister nodes to define metaphor. Thus we run into two major
difficulties: we need to (1) redefine the terms between which metaphor occurs, and (2) redefine
predication.
In this nausea of redefinition, let us return to a consideration of what we consider
metaphor to be in the first place. Under the Aristotelian presentation, metaphor was ostensibly
everywhere, present even in statements as mundane as “the ship stands.” But the metaphors
which interested us, the ones which stood out, revealed things about the world which we may not
have already observed. They forced us to reconsider the structures of trees, to think carefully
about the meanings of predications, and to ultimately consider new possibilities for the definition
of metaphor itself. The faculty of nous was invoked. The reader became a ser causal, impulsed
by el aire cinegético which Lezama Lima describes as being capable of clarifying [clarear] the
most recondite “causal variations” simply through the potencia of its movement12. The

12“Las variaciones causales, de nexo muy recóndito o profundo, solo pueden ser allegadas por la
impulsión, por el aire cinegético que las impulsa a una finalidad, que ellas mismas se clarean por la
potencia de su recorrido o movimiento.” (802)
 Chang-Park !16

metaphors that concern us are thus the ones which we recognize through a sense of smell,
through gut instinct, through the desire to chase after the most elusive of fowl.
We are there no longer bound to considering metaphor as the relation between a pair of
words. While we will continue to consider metaphor as a binary relation, we may now consider
any number of poetic units as terms in a metaphorical pair — metaphors can exist in the
interactions between not only words, but between lines, and even stanzas. Metaphors need not
exist in spatial proximity, either. Distant lines within a poem may invoke each other’s presence in
the memory of the reader, whether that be through the direct sharing of a certain word (“abeja,”
for instance), or through a more indirect set of linkages that might exist between them. This
metaphorical action-at-a-distance is primarily what I will be interested in developing in the
following “chase” through the poem, to delimit the following presentation further, I will delimit
the terms of metaphorical action to lines, and define their predicative relations as being formed
by a word shared between them. Therefore we might say that “Granizados toronjiles y ríos de
velamen congelados” and “esclavos del perfil y del velamen secos el aire muerden” exist in a
predicative relationship based on the word “velamen.” The biggest distinction between this and
the Aristotelian system is that we can no longer form relationships of essential predication. No
line in the poem fully contains another; every line is distinct and contains words which may exist
in predicative relationships with other lines, which in turn contain their own vast array of
connections.
The trees of “Muerte de Narciso” are thus infinite and headless; every pair of lines
engenders its own network a vast, combinatorial array of possible metaphorical irradiations,
connected through the bi-directional, mirror-like predications. Instead of drawing a tree which
spreads from its top root node to its branchings of genus and species, what I will do in the
following section will be to form a single “trace” through a vine of interconnections, based on
the predicative relationships between lines on words that interest me. The only real stable root
existing in my choice of where to begin. In a sense, what I am growing here is more a vine than a
tree, and I hope that its retorcido nature encourages the reader to notice the paths which I did not
take, to reorient the direction of my chase by choosing to form different sets of predications
based on different sets of words, to take notice of the chaotic and convergent moments that arise
in the process of my chase. In respecting the ser causal of Lezama Lima, the nous of Aristotle, I
will not point to metaphor directly, and instead allow the reader to decide which pairings bear the
most potencia, the most poetic force. Finally, I disclaim that the following task is quite possibly
endless, and therefore I will make various arbitrary choices and excisions to shorten, and in the
end, cut short, my path through the poem. Regardless, I hope that at the close of this chase, at
least some sort of closure is generated in the reader’s mind, though very circuit, every loop, may
still may be re-opened and followed through vertiginous fractals of possibility.
 Chang-Park !17

1. “la mano o el pájaro o el labio nevaban”

Dánae teje el tiempo dorado por el Nilo

envolviendo los labios que pasaban
entre labios y vuelos desligados.
La mano o el labio o el pájaro nevaban.
Era el círculo en nieve que se abría.
Mano era sin sangre la seda que borraba
la perfección que muere de rodillas
y en su celo se esconde y se divierte.

I begin with this kernel of strangeness from the fourth line of the poem which echoes of
Aristotle’s metaphors of types 1-3, yet simultaneously challenges them. In separation, and in
isolation, “la mano nevaba,” “el pájaro nevaba,” y “el labio nevaba” are metaphors no different
from Aristotle’s “the ship stands.” However, the plural ending (“nevaban”) seems to warn against
their separability, at very least opening the possibility that they stand together under the same
mother node, thus generating the following taxonomy:

Que nieven

la mano el pájaro el labio

!
Remember that we are approaching the poem with a hermetic stance, in which we refer not to
our knowledge of the world external to the poem, but instead only to relationships that exist
within it. Thus the fact that hands and birds and lips do not snow in the “real world” is not
relevant here. One might say that Lezama Lima has employed his poetic ser causal to openly
assert the existence of such a tree, and that this tree will be applicable to metaphorical action
elsewhere in the poem. He thus creates an environment in which metaphors of type 3 might
occur between birds, hands, and lips. Even the reader who vehemently rejects the notion of a
hand that snows will recall the sisterly orientation of the three words presented in this line when
reading a subsequent line involving any of the three terms. This is particularly evident in the line
“Ya sólo cae el pájaro, la mano que la cárcel mueve,” occurring in the eighth stanza, wherein the
falling of the bird recalls its snowing in the first line, which seems to then bleed over to the hand.

Given these three sisters, we might now seek to generate our “knowledge” of each of the
terms by exploring their predicative relations to other lines in the poem. To do this, I generate
what I call “eigenbases” for each term — the sets of lines in which “mano,” “pájaro,” and
 Chang-Park !18

“labio” (or closely linked, synonymous terms13) appear elsewhere in the poem. For ease of
notation, I will term them eigenbases A, B, and C:

Eigenbasis A (“mano”):
1. Mano era sin sangre la seda que borraba
2. La mano que por el aire líneas impulsaba seca, sonrisas caminando por la nieve.
3. Ecuestres faisanes ya no advierten mano sin eco, pulso desdoblado:
4. los dedos en inmóvil calendario y el hastío en su trono cejijunto.
5. Ya sólo cae el pájaro, la mano que la cárcel mueve,
6. el espacio que manos desalojan
7. son peces, son llamas, son flautas, son dedos mordisqueados.

Eigenbasis B (“pájaro”):
1. Ya sólo cae el pájaro, la mano que la cárcel mueve,
2. Garza divaga, concha en la ola, nube en el desgaire,
3. sobre la garza real y el frío tan débil
4. Triste recorre – curva ceñida en ceniciento airón –
5. islas y aislada paloma muda entre dos hojas enterradas.
6. por la paloma que sin ojos chilla,
7. Su insepulta madera blanda el frío pico del hirviente cisne.
8. Pez del frío verde el aire en el espejo sin estrías, racimo de palomas
9. ocultas en la garganta muerta: hija de la flecha y de los cisnes.

Eigenbasis C (“labio”):
1. envolviendo los labios que pasaban / entre labios y vuelos desligados.
2. así el otoño que en su labio muere, así el granizo
3. que le miente la pluma por los labios, laberinto y halago
4. Ahogadas cintas mudo el labio las ofrece.
5. los labios destrozados, pero los ciegos no oscilan.
6. labios sus rutas, llamas tristes las olas mordiendo sus caderas.
7. La blancura seda es ascendiendo en labio derramada
8. Húmedos labios no en la concha que busca recto hilo,

13 The choice to include synonymous terms is perhaps problematic, since it breaks with our hermetic
treatment of the poem. The terms “dedos” and “manos” in eigenbasis x, for instance, are highly divergent
linguistic objects in terms of their sound and appearance, but I have nevertheless chosen to include them
based on their semantic similitude, since most readers are likely to link the two fairly automatically. The
same applies to my choice to include the birds “garza,” “cisne,” “paloma,” and “airón” in eigenbasis y.
 Chang-Park !19

We say that an eigenbasis for word w predicates the lines of which it is formed, based on the
common presence of that word. We will also call the line from which a given set of eigenbases
are formed the “mother” of its eigenbases — “la mano o el pájaro o el labio nevaban” is the
mother of eigenbases A, B, and C. I will also start to abbreviate any given line within an
eigenbasis by its alphanumeric coordinates (C2 would be “así el otoño que en su labio muere
[…],” for instance). Finally, I should note that we will also consider each numbered line under a
given eigenbasis to also consider the information from the lines directly preceding or succeeding
it if those lines form part of the same grammatical clause — which is why I have placed the two
lines in C1 together. Sometimes a line will form part of a lengthy, multi-lineal clause, in which
case I will not notate the whole thing. I am assuming that the reader has access to the poem and
can follow along (or diverge!) from whatever path I am taking.14

2. C7: “La blancura seda es ascendiendo en labio derramada”

While I would love to follow every path in every Eigenbasis above, I will choose to trace
through line C7. Thus I form new eigenbases based on the words “blancura,” “seda,”
“ascendiendo,” and “derramada” which appear in the sentence. From now on, let us consider the
lines in previously formed eigenbases to be part of the reader’s memory, and therefore mark
recurrences in subsequent eigenbases without re-notating them.

Eigenbasis D (“blancura”):
1. Ya traspasa blancura recto sinfín en llamas secas y hojas lloviznadas.

Eigenbasis E (“seda”):
A1 (“Mano era sin sangre la seda que borraba […]”)
1. enterrando firme oído en la seda del estanque.

Eigenbasis F (“ascendiendo”):
1. Ascendiendo en el pecho sólo blanda,
2. Dócil rubí queda suspirando en su fuga ya ascendiendo.
3. Tierra húmeda ascendiendo hasta el rostro, flecha cerrada.

Eigenbasis G (“derramada”):
1. Como se derrama la ausencia en la flecha que se aísla

14 It is available online: http://ciudadseva.com/texto/muerte-de-narciso/

 Chang-Park !20

Notice that the size of the eigenbases have reduced significantly. To streamline the subsequent
tracings, I introduce some new shorthand notation:
Given an eigenbasis X formed on word P from line Q,
(1) if the only line predicated by P is line Q itself, we call the eigenbasis X a “leaf.”
(2) if the only lines predicated by P are lines we have previously encountered, then we
call it a “mirror.”

Now, I choose, with a roll of the dice, to follow D1—

3. D1: Ya traspasa blancura recto sinfín en llamas secas y hojas lloviznadas.

Eigenbasis H (“traspasa”) — leaf

Eigenbasis I (“blancura”) — mirror (C7)

Eigenbasis J (“recto”):
C8
1. Si se aleja, recta abeja, el espejo destroza el río mudo.
2. La nieve que en los sistros no penetra, arguye
en hojas, recta destroza vidrio en el oído,

Eigenbasis K (“sinfín”) — leaf

Eigenbasis L (“llamas”):
B3, A7, C6
1. en la llama fabrica sus raíces y su mansión de gritos soterrados.
2. Cuerpo del sonido el enjambre que mudos pinos claman,
3. despertando el oleaje en lisas llamaradas y vuelos sosegados,

Eigenbasis M (“secas”) — mirror (A2)

Eigenbasis N (“hojas”):
B5, D1, J2
1. Granizados toronjiles y ríos de velamen congelados,
aguardan la señal de una mustia hoja de oro,
 Chang-Park !21

Eigenbasis O (“lloviznadas”) — leaf

Now I follow J1—

4. J1: “Si se aleja, recta abeja, el espejo destroza el río mudo.”

Eigenbasis P (“aleja”) — leaf

Eigenbasis Q (“abeja”):
1. Chorro de abejas increadas muerden la estela, pídenle el costado.

Eigenbasis R (“espejo”):
B8
[… 11 more instances…]

Eigenbasis S (“río”): — mirror (N1)

Eigenbasis T (“mudo”):
B5, C4, L3
1. Cuerpo del sonido el enjambre que mudos pinos claman,
2. Los corceles si nieve o si cobre guiados por miradas la súplican / destilan o más
firmes recurvan a la mudez primera ya sin cielo.

5. P1: “Chorro de abejas increadas muerden la estela, pídenle el costado.”

Eigenbasis U (“chorro”) — leaf

Eigenbasis V (“increadas”) — leaf

Eigenbasis W (“muerden”) — mirror (A7, C6, C8)

Eigenbasis X (“estela”) — leaf

Eigenbasis Y (“pídenle”) — leaf

 Chang-Park !22

Eigenbasis Z (“costado”):
Si se sienta en su borde o en su frente el centurión pulsa en su costado.

6. Z: “Si se sienta en su borde o en su frente el centurión pulsa en su costado.”

“se sienta” — leaf

“borde” — leaf
“frente”
la frente que se abría en loto húmedo.
“centurión” — leaf
“pulsa” — leaf

We have run out of letters. It is possible to go further, but I will stop here.
Where have we arrived?

7. “la frente que se abría en loto húmedo.”

If we take the liberty of looking at just one word in this line — abría — we notice that it
appears for the first time in the fifth line of the poem, right after our “mother,” line 4:

Dánae teje el tiempo dorado por el Nilo

envolviendo los labios que pasaban
entre labios y vuelos desligados.
La mano o el labio o el pájaro nevaban.
Era el círculo en nieve que se abría.
Mano era sin sangre la seda que borraba
la perfección que muere de rodillas
y en su celo se esconde y se divierte.

In some unforeseen turn of events, we have traced a path that leads almost directly to
where we began. A moment of metaphorical circling. An opening between terms.
 Chang-Park !23

Dánae teje el tiempo dorado por el Nilo

envolviendo los labios que pasaban

entre labios y vuelos desligados.

La mano o el labio o el pájaro nevaban.

La mano o el pájaro o el labio nevaban.

La blancura seda es ascendiendo en labio derramada

Ya traspasa blancura recto sinfín en llamas secas y hojas lloviznadas.

Si se aleja, recta abeja, el espejo destroza el río mudo.

Chorro de abejas increadas muerden la estela, pídenle el costado.

Si se sienta en su borde o en su frente el centurión pulsa en su costado.

la frente que se abría en loto húmedo.

(Era el círculo en nieve que se abría.)

Era el círculo en nieve que se abría.

Mano era sin sangre la seda que borraba

la perfección que muere de rodillas

y en su celo se esconde y se divierte.

 Chang-Park !24

4. CLOSING DISCUSSION

“¿Existe la causalidad hilozoísta capaz de crear la metáfora, o por el contrario, ésta

como signo unitivo puede aclarar uno de sus extremos, mientras el otro se sumerge como
un pez en la refracción anteriormente desconocida?”
— José Lezama Lima, “Dignidad de la poesía,” 769

hylozoism, n. ὕλη (hulē) “matter, wood, forest,” ζωή (zōē) “life.”

“The theory that matter is endowed with life, or that life is merely a property of matter.”
— OED

In the tracing of “Muerte de Narciso,” in the trellis of the vine, we have attempted to
extend the Aristotelian notion of metaphor — fundamentally grounded in a desire for knowledge
— into the realm of agent poetry. Allowing the poem itself to constitute its own framework of
knowledge, its own generative growth, we have tried to break the hard carapace of metaphor
previously been contained within the causal chains of the predetermined, the untouchable, the
noumenal. In moments of the new, hylozoistic causality Lezama Lima invokes above, metaphor
seems to illuminate the terms which it vinculates, to enliven the objects which had been neatly
contained in the categories of genus and species. In reaching for this new causality, new
metaphor, we have not abandoned the framework of predications, inheritances, and binary
relations which Aristotle first set out. Instead, we have devoured, digested, remasticated,
incorporated it, become intimate with its logic and with the questions to which it gives rise
before reforming it to fit our purposes.
We have thus attempted to engender a hylozoism not only in the aesthetic realm of the
poem, but through our consideration of the intellectual tools available and amenable to literary
science itself. In the anthropophagy of the Aristotelian syllogistic, a resurrection of structure is
invoked; we relevate order, measure, and definition — all methods of delimitation. While the
neatness of such forms may seem entirely alogenous to the messiness, the expansiveness, the
infinitude of the Baroque, our toying with mechanisms such as the tree and the syllogism in this
investigation have hopefully enlivened both the excrescences of the Baroque and the strangeness
innate in the more “classical” concepts themselves. There is thus something perfectly coherent
revealed in viewing the Baroque as simultaneously an aesthetic and an intellectual project, as a
set of material objects — paintings, poems, plays, works of architecture (hyle) — and as a shared
mode of thought, a liveliness of being (zoe), a nous, a desire to be and become its own ser
causal.
 Chang-Park !25

By saying all this I do not mean to reify the particular homology of the Aristotelian
metaphor I have presented here — but to simply suggest that the (Neo)Baroque, more broadly,
demands such (over)zealous investigations and reinvestigations of orders and structures which
may seem to be only distantly related, and quite difficult to reconcile with the most urgent
projects of the times. In arriving at the argument which I have presented here, there is much that
I have chosen to occlude, a multitude of conceptual tools which have animated my cynegetic
search for coherence but ultimately been left to speak tacitly from the sidelines. I am thus left
with a necessary sense of incompletion, a desire to warn the reader against the closure of this
subject. To compel the continued investigation of issues sprouting from, related to, and perhaps
in themselves homologous to those explicitly treated here, I thus end with a list of questions (in
itself incomplete) which had arisen in earlier drafts of this paper:

1. What is the role of syntax in the perception of metaphor, in “Muerte de Narciso” and
other poetic contexts? We have not considered the subordinations and interactions
between words on the sentence level in our tracing of the poem, we have not considered
its various self-conscious agrammaticalities, wherein the “blancura in “La blancura seda
es ascendiendo en labio derramada” seems to takes on a chimerical duality as noun and
adjective at once, and the use of the verb “es” instead of “estar” in the same line seems to
calcify the temporal undulations of the gerund which follows. It is thus necessary to look
at the ways words function, the categories they fall under, the way verbs, adjectives, and
nouns brush against the work of prepositions, adverbs, conjunctions, clitics, negations,
etc., in order to understand how metaphor functions, in this poem and in others. No small
accident that Aristotle lists, in Topics, various categories outside of the genus and species,
including “essence, quantity, quality, relation, place, time, position, state, activity,
passivity,” which seem to variously relate to the paradigm of “part of speech” we have in
modern grammars (293).

2. Contrary to the project above, which takes into consideration the relations between words
without regard to their semantic meaning, what happens when we consider the word
only? Is there a metaphor of the etumon? Can etymological tree diagrams as the one
below generate new forms of metaphorical predication, metaphorical action, within a
poem? How do our external notions of objects affect the linguistic experience of
metaphor?
 Chang-Park !26

azafrán

‫زرپران‬
Crocus sativus zar-parân

‫
زر‬ ‫
پر‬
κρόκος sativus
zar
par

krókos
sembrar
gold pluma

Ovidio:
*ǵʰelh₃- 1. flight
Crocus y Smilax 1. to flourish 2. feather
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/
2. green, yellow 3. quill File:‫_زعفران‬-_panoramio.jpg

[…] así Narciso en pleamar fugó sin alas. Pluma morada, no mojada, pez mirándome, sepulcro.

Reluce muelle: falsos diamantes; pluma cambiante: terso atlas.

Verdes chillidos: juegan las olas, blanda muerte el relámpago en sus venas.

Dánae teje el tiempo dorado por el Nilo Triste recorre – curva ceñida en ceniciento airón –
envolviendo los labios que pasaban el espacio que manos desalojan, timbre ausente y
entre labios y vuelos desligados. avivado azafrán, tiernos redobles sus extremos.

3. In relation to the above expansion of the Aristotelian homology, I call for a closer look at
homology itself, as an intellectual paradigm, a biological concept, a metaphor for
metaphor itself. Phylogeny, ontogeny, morphogeny, evolution — what might we learn by
examining the technologies, the concrete methods of visualization that have been applied
to the study of these intellectual frameworks?

4. Finally, I end by asking the most obvious — how might the methods of “tracing” through
“Muerte de Narciso” in this paper be modified, improved, visualized, and otherwise
expanded upon? Such an inquiry is perhaps too close to my own recent efforts for me to
tackle now. I simply leave the question here, gapingly open.
 Chang-Park !27

Works Cited

Aristotle. “Prior Analytics.” Categories. On Interpretation. Prior Analytics. Tran. H. P. Cooke,

Hugh Tredennick. Harvard University Press, 1938. Print. Loeb Classical Library 325.

---. “Poetics.” Poetics. Longinus: On the Sublime. Demetrius: On Style. Tran. Stephen Halliwell.
XXIII Vol. Harvard University Press, 1995. Print. Loeb Classical Library 199.

---. Posterior Analytics. Topica. Tran. E. S. Forster Hugh Tredennick. Harvard University Press,
1960. Print. Loeb Classical Library 391.

Hall, Brian K. “Introduction.” Homology: The Hierarchical Basis of Comparative Biology.

Academic Press, Inc. 1994. Print.
Levin, Samuel R. “Aristotle's Theory of Metaphor.” Philosophy & Rhetoric, vol. 15, no. 1, 1982,
pp. 24–46. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/40237305.
Lezama Lima, José. “Introducción a un sistema poético.” Obras completas, Tomo II - Ensayos /
Cuentos. M Aguilar, México, 1977. pp 393-427.
--- . “La dignidad de la poesía.” Obras completas, Tomo II - Ensayos /
Cuentos. M Aguilar, México, 1977. pp 760-792.
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