digging through troughs
of conversations past
in digitally corrugated landscapes,
minefields,
we sweep through moments
of youth and self-discovery,
angst and recovery
wallowing in piles of self-conscious pity
afraid to be naked
concerned about judgement
yet also sizzling with frenetic excitement
and pace,
riveting, riling pace
filling up the place
knocking our socks off
about various philosophical awakenings —
there’s always a first time for something
and also always a last too —
life is about continually searching for firsts
and petulantly avoiding the lasts…
or accepting them, if you can,
if you’re a better person than me,
which I think you are —
yeah, you probably are
Garbage Notes:
Going through my poems is now feeling a little bit like some kind of psychological archaeology. A constant digging up of the self. Or rather the various selves that I’ve been.
I’m seeing patterns and detecting little insights here and there. But what is clear is the change—the constant flow. The beginnings, the ends. And all the soft grey stuff in between.
There’s always a sizzling, frenetic excitement at the beginning of something. The start of a new chapter, the wonder and the possibilities. And then there’s always the fear and the dread of transition. The challenge and the destruction that looms. Some people are built for the start. While others were made for the ends. Which is better, I don’t know?
I like the idea that we can continually time travel mentally, but now we can also do so digitally. We can look back and find clues about ourselves in old things that we’ve written. We look back at old conversations we’ve had. Maybe dig up an old voicemail or sift through old photo albums or maybe unearth an old social media post.
The archaeology of the self is probably easier now than ever, but dealing with the flow of time without acknowledging the need to recover, heal, or become ourselves again can sometimes be a problem. We must give ourselves the time to think about who we are, who we were, and who we might possibly be in the future.
Examine the grooves and ridges in your life. Consider the ways your behavior might fold in on itself. I know for me—writing fiction and poetry and then sharing it with you helps in that process. It helps me accept all that I am.
Franco Amati 2023
I cherish the opportunity to go digging with you, mate. Always a worthwhile experience to read your buried treasure.
I've thought a lot about this lately. I've experienced many endings and beginnings over the past few years, but I haven't taken the time to assess the effects of those things. This is a great reminder to do that. Thank you for that!