My time spent in Ecuador affected me in a deeply profound way. One might ask (and people have): why is it that this thesis has largely strayed from talk of my actual experiences? There is truly very little in the form of a travel-style narrative.
The largest reason, I believe, is that my time this past summer was so profound that it affected my ability to retell on such a profound level. My friend Matthew mentioned that this change could be related to state-dependent learning. That is, because life in Ecuador was so radically different from life in Arizona, not even my field notes would suffice to help me remember the lessons I learned there.
Even still, what I can remember from Ecuador remains as a chaotic, nonlinear narrative rather than the type that is easily exposed in airline magazines. I feel awkward quoting my journal, and it shows in my fumbling syntax surrounding the quotes in earlier entries. To compensate, I’m going to include here some “source material” – poems written in Ecuador.
Out/In Nature
“The poets are writing of the campos from their cars -
they don’t know.”
Frailty’s arterial disconnect
skeleton romantics
implanting the film fraught with mirage
doubled back and self-contained
horror smears to impossible tears
reinforce steely psychic palms
erring amidst wavy stamens and
smoothing, repeating undone seams -
mold drawn lucid from alabaster
annals of neurons and television
a tree’s eye breached
rethought contracts unknown
direct to the untraceable growth
seeming firm and mason-placed
centering in, fades to density,
is left to camels’ loaned corneas.
Finding themselves grouped and gripping
against maladies
dissonant
soon gooze and flounder when weaving
reaches become othered aspirations
nestled in proceeding wilderness,
their echoes not yet yielded to, they
scrape at the soggy moss and
claim ascension of mass –
disseminating roughly
through papers bought the
curious inquiries now inform to neglect
pariahs, pointing to masked
replicas. Hence snifters.
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