On my way home from AMREN (a review to come), I stopped in Nashville and walked to their Parthenon. I had a little book of Fugitive poems with me and while lounging under the massive columns I read Donald Davidson’s “On a Replica of the Parthenon”.
I saw the pool he referenced and parked under the willow trees. From that vantage, I felt one in spirit with Davidson. Eventually I went closer. Weekend filth littered the plaza. And as I sat there reading, I observed dozens of moderns, including a group of Asian immigrants, strutting by, smug in their position as honored invaders.
I think I’ve finally succeeded in understanding a poem.