. fun. To ambulate is to walk of course. fun. related to funicular but apparently not to funnel. I think of the cord of water of a whirlpool, that the whirlpool is a funnel. Cuerda. “Cuerda de l’acera.” Opposite of that but getting into the spirit of the word by holding my arms out for a moment, walking with one foot directly in front of the other for a moment Funambulista. tight rope walker, which immediately evokes early 20th century Germanic writing, Zarathustra …
It seems essential to the understanding of what I call my project that what I’ve been after here is not poetry at all but fact and history, microhistory they call it, looking for hitherto unfound facts in the tiniest slivers of perception. Probably, I ought to have been after poetry. Maybe I have been after poetry without quite acknowledging it, because I have been so far from attaining poetry. And maybe, which is not the same thing, “facts at the tiniest slivers” of perception are closely related to poetry, as represented by Duchamp’s inframince and maybe haiku. Maybe the atoms of aesthetics and history are the same at this point. Might history and poetry border each other in very brief moments, in energy “quanta” of human experience?
.i`` * ^ / . . . . . ` `~ 