As I promised, here is my more complete response to your post.
As I noted before, I really enjoyed this post. It gave me a challenge to get off my butt and try to articulate my feelings about what poetry, and by extension, other art means. My position - poetry doesn’t mean anything beyond the experience of reading it or listening to it. It doesn’t point to anything else, which is my understanding of what meaning means. It is only about itself.
In the end, the only thing I can tell you about a poem is what it made me think, feel, see, hear, remember…Much analysis, explication, criticism of literature describes definitively what the written work means. If you read more than one analysis, you often find that it definitively means different things to different people, which defeats the purpose of the analysis.
That’s not quite right. I’ve read discussions of a poem that I found really helpful, including a particular one for lines in Frost’s “Wild Grapes.” To begin with:
Grapes, I knew grapes from having seen them last year.
One bunch of them, and there began to be
Bunches all round me growing in white birches,
The way they grew round Leif the Lucky's German;
Every time I read the poem, I wondered who Leif the Lucky’s German was. I knew that Leif the Lucky was Leif Erickson, who is supposed to have been the first European to discover the new world, which he called Vineland because of all the grapes. I searched the web and found an analysis that indicates the German refers to was Erickson’s foster father. I still am not sure what his foster father’s role was in the discovery. The analysis also includes explanations of several allusions to Greek mythology that were helpful. This information didn’t change how I experienced the poem dramatically, but the additional context added color, dimension, and satisfaction.
That analysis didn’t tell me what the poem meant. It wasn’t an explication. Here is an excerpt from one of my favorite “interpretations” - It’s a god-awful analysis of Frost’s “A Dust of Snow.”
There is one word that Frost uses that pervades a certain meaning throughout the rest of the poem: hemlock. We associate hemlock poison with death, specifically the Socrates’s proverbial willful death. In the Phaedo, Socrates claims philosophy (the pursuit of wisdom) is ultimately a preparation for death. It is this recognition of death that inspires the narrator to have a change of heart: once he realizes he is condemned to death, his day takes on a whole new meaning.
The connection between hemlock and death in this poem is one I’ve come across in several analyses. The problem, of course, is that the hemlock that killed Socrates is a completely different plant than the hemlock tree, which is a relative of the pine tree common in New England. I have one in my yard.
As for the analysis of “Assasi” you included in your post… I didn’t read it all, but some of it I liked. In particular the upfront questions were useful. They could help a reader pay attention more carefully to aspects of the poem the reviewer found important. Not to tell the reader how to experience the poem, but to guide her through it in a way that the reviewer found helpful personally. That’s what a good critic, or disk jockey, does - guides you through their experience of a piece. Gives you a taste of their taste, if you will. That can help a reader explore the poem. It gives some structure to the experience without telling them what it really means.
For example, from the analysis you linked to:
The opening stanza begins by introducing the first character, describing him in some detail: “The dwarf with his hands on backwards sat, slumped like a half-filled sack on tiny twisted legs from which sawdust might run,” That first phrase, “The dwarf” immediately makes the man seem less than human. We know that dwarfism is a medical condition that causes disability, but the word “dwarf” has many other, perhaps more immediate, associations. It might make us think of characters from Harry Potter, or Lord of the Rings. These are fictional, mythical characters, which makes the disabled beggar seem not fully human.
This is not what came to mind when I read that stanza at all. When I read it, I got an effective visual image of the dwarf, but all that baloney about Harry Potter left me really cold. If the writer had just noted that this was what came to his mind when he read it, that would be fine, but that’s not generally how it’s done, as I think the “hemlock” example shows.
I’ll end there. I don’t think I’ve made my point as clearly as I would have liked, but at least it’s a start.