poetry found
Ok, so the poem below is about the Parthenon replica in Nashville, not something in Boston. But when I wrote about my visit to Nashville last December, I mentioned this poem and in error attributed it to Robert Penn Warren. For almost five months it's been bothering me that I couldn't remember the title, or the correct author of a poem that was running through the back of my mind.

It took me almost five months to find this poem again, but I did it. It wasn't Robert Penn Warren after all; it was a friend of his, Donald Davidson, who was part of a student magazine called the _Fugitive_ at Vanderbilt that produced a number of award winning writers. A bunch of the _Fugitive_ writers, including Davidson, later wrote the famous work _I'll Take My Stand_ (1930), which is an integral part of Southern Literature classes everywhere. I don't agree with a lot they had to say, but they were brilliant.

This is kind of why I'm so up on Scribbling Mob, and other little student 'zines and "hack" publications. Look where those guys went! And they were just like us, turning out a college poetry mag based on their ideals and self expression.

Ok, here's the poem. You can find it in _Literary_Nashville_, edited by Patrick Allen, if you want, or you can go look up Davidson on his own. But it took me forever to find this.

On a Replica of the Parthenon

Why do they come? What do they seek?
Who build but never read their Greek?
The classic stillness of a pool
Beleaguered in its certitude
By aimless motors that can make
Only incertainty more sure;
And where the willows crowd the pure
Expanse of clouds and blue that stood
Around the gables Athens wrought,
Shop-girls embrace a plaster thought,
And eye Poseidon's loins ungirt,
And never heed the brandished spear
Or feel the bright-eyed maiden's rage
Whose gaze the sparrows violate;
But the sky drips its spectral dirt,
and gods, like men, to soot revert.
Gone is the mild, the serene air.
The golden years are come too late.
Pursue not wisdom or virtue here,
But what blind motion, what dim last
Regret of men who slew their past
Raised up this bribe against their fate.


enjoy your poetry love.

Christy Ford Rules
My friend, Christy Ford, cleaned out my storage unit in Middle Tennessee and drove all my possessions twenty hours up the eastern seaboard last week.

Everybody clap.

No, really.

I paid for the 4x8 U-haul trailer she used, and the gas and lodging and all, but I still can't believe she actually did that for me. If she hadn't, I'd be moving out of the dorms in May without the benefit of a bed, dresser, bicycle, kitchen stuff, and all my little things that I couldn't throw away when I moved last. I would have had to buy all that stuff all over again, and it would have been a pain in the rear.

She made it here a week ago Sunday night, and I got off work at Harvard an hour early so we could move it all into the scary storage unit I rented in South Boston. It's scary because it's in this big warehouse, and you have to use a freight elevator with a rickety screen door to get to the second floor. To get to my 4x6x5 storage unit, you then have to climb a small set of stairs and actually duck under a pipe. I was really proud of myself that I did not hit my head on that pipe even once. I'm sure that'll happen when I move all that stuff back into a truck in May, though.

To thank Ford for helping me so much, I took her out to eat a lot and found her a few free museum passes. I took her down Newbury Street, and to Copley square and Cambridge, and despite the cold we walked through the Boston Common one day after poking around Downtown Crossing. We went to as many art supply stores as I knew of, because Christy's a graphic designer and of course you can buy supplies right here in Boston that you have to order in Tennessee. I was glad to show her these things because honestly, I can't walk into an art supply store and not think of her. She's one of my best friends and it was good to have her in person for a whole week. She had to leave in the wee hours of Saturday morning, and I missed her just about right away.

I'd tell you more about her visit, but I don't want to ruin her stories. So ask her, if you want, about what kind of time she had. I think it was a good one; I made sure she was at least well fed, I think.

Friday it started to rain, and it's supposed to rain all week even if it hasn't yet surfaced again. The rain on Friday was so bad that even with umbrellas everyone in Boston was walking around with the bottoms of their pants cold and soaked. You could tell exactly where a person's coat ended by where their line of dampness stopped. The rain came sideways and hard and flooded parts of the Back Bay again. I've switched to wearing my mid-length leather coat because my long wool one is too heavy when wet. Also, this winter has been hard enough on that coat that I'm afraid it's not going to make it to next winter. The salt and five years have done its work on my familiar and beloved hooded green coat.

The salt, I think, has also done a number on my face. It's that or the stress attached to the fact that I only have a month left in this semester. Anyhow, I have the biggest, most beautiful glowing volcanoes on my face you've ever seen. I think I'll start a trend - everyone should have them. The worst part about having horrible skin eruptions when you don't wear makeup is that if you start wearing make up to cover the zits, it'll just make more people study your face because they'll not be used to you wearing make up, and of course, how could they miss Mount Vesuvius, right there next to your nose?

I should get back to work now. Of course, I'm still super busy and I'll continue to be until mid May. But I have a little breathing room for the next few weeks, I think.