Thursday, June 2, 2016

Is Science More Than Mapping, Perhaps, Truth? (Poem by Clara B. Jones)

Is Science More Than Mapping, Perhaps, Truth?

A map propels me forward as I move across life's tarmac spending glucose going out of style. Mother-of-Pearl buttons on a Pringle sweater, kilt worn for boxing, gloves looking like bruised brains pickled in solution with noisy crowds an anodyne to thoughts perturbing nets of neurons, templates for other sports.

If neuroscience is not fiction maps are drawn at every level framing physical laws from neurons firing rhythmic as a child's sobbing but more predictable, so many factors to compute by brains old as annelids, archives of action patterns, origin of novelty, pathways constrained, limited in number—in plasticity—as Weinrich has made clear.

What is Behavior now that maps have been drawn and whole organisms are partitioned into their smallest bits as Tetrapods were rived from three to four?

Basal actions transition to questions of a higher order: What did fruit taste like in the Cretaceous?

Temperature is necessary but not sufficient for simple proofs of therian life history, Mammalogy resisting detours from tradition: No formula more powerful than life history, no method more accurate than description, no algorithm more beautiful than the rules of systematics, no elegant power laws of physiology or Mass.


Mammals as prototypes of the ideal form: Rodentia over David.

No comments:

Post a Comment