Poem fractal
0.092 apart. A smaller distance means the lines are built more alike.
This number is read from the build of the lines. The bright edge is that number, carried outward until the pattern repeats.
0.7121 − 0.3053i
Drawing the boundary…
by Violet Jacob
0.6203 − 0.2983i
Drawing the boundary…
Each poem scrolls on its own, so the two texts stay beside each other.
Noli me tangere, touch me not!
O you creatures of mind, don't touch me!
O you with mental fingers, O never put your hand on me!
O you with mental bodies, stay a little distance from me!
And let us, if you will, talk and mingle
in mental contact, gay and sad.
But only that.
O don't confuse
the body into it, let us stay apart.
Great is my need to be chaste
and apart, in this cerebral age.
Great is my need to be untouched,
untouched.
Noli me tangere!
by Violet Jacob
We've stookit the hairst an' we're needin'
To gaither it in,
Syne, gin the morn's dry, we'll be leadin'
An' wark'll begin;
But noo I'll awa doon the braeside
My lane, while I can—
Wha kens wha he'll meet by the wayside,
My bonnie Joann?
East yonder, the hairst-fields are hidin'
The sea frae my een,
Gin ye keek whaur the stooks are dividin'
Ye'll see it atween.
Sae douce an' sae still it has sleepit
Since hairst-time began
Like my he'rt—gin ye'd tak' it an' keep it
My bonnie Joann.
Owre a'thing the shadows gang trailin',
Owre stubble an' strae;
Frae the hedge to the fit o' the pailin'
They rax owre the way;
But the sun may gang through wi' his beamin'
An' traivel his span,
For aye, by the licht o' my dreamin',
I see ye, Joann.
Awa frae ye, naebody's braver,
Mair wise-like an' bauld,
Aside ye, I hech an' I haver,
I'm het an' I'm cauld;
But oh! could I tell wi'out speakin'
The he'rt o' a man,
Ye micht find I'm the lad that ye're seekin',
My bonnie Joann!
A fractal is a shape that keeps its pattern when you look closer. Coastlines, trees, shells, and weather do this. The large form and the small form are the same kind of thing. A poem can be drawn that way. The shape of the whole comes from the shape of the lines.
Primunia is the name for the source of that order: the pattern under the pattern, already there in a tree, a shell, and a verse.
The number under the picture is the poem constant. It is read from the build of the lines: their length, how uneven they are, the size of the stanzas, the share of vowels, and the way the lines end. A new word moves the number when it changes that build. The same poem always gives the same number.
Drawn on its own, that number sits in a quiet part of the plane, and most poems would look like the same soft disk. So the number is carried outward along its own direction until it meets the edge of the Mandelbrot set, where the shape turns sharp. The picture is the Julia set of that meeting place.
Each point on the canvas is folded again and again by one small rule. Points that stay near the rule form the dark interior. Points that rush away become the coloured bands. The hue comes from the poem constant, and the brightest bands turn toward gold. Change the length of a line, the stanza, or the vowel share, and both the number and the picture move.
Branching draws the poem as a tree. Each turn follows a line, and every smaller branch repeats that pattern. A longer line reaches farther. The letters at the start of a line bend the next turn. A higher share of vowels opens the branches wider.
The trunk takes its colour from the poem constant and warms toward gold at the tips. When the poem has more than one stanza, gold forks leave the trunk. Each fork is a stanza beyond the first, up to three. The tree divides where the poem divides. One stanza remains a single trunk.
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