There's a certain Slant of light and It sifts from Leaden Sieves — compare fractals

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0.033 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.

−0.4167 − 0.9343i

−0.4244 − 0.9664i

The poems

Each poem scrolls on its own, so the two texts stay beside each other.

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal difference –
Where the Meanings, are –

None may teach it – Any –
'Tis the seal Despair –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –

When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –

It sifts from Leaden Sieves—
It powders all the Wood.
It fills with Alabaster Wool
The Wrinkles of the Road.

It makes an Even Face
Of Mountain and of Plain—
Unbroken Forehead from the East
Unto the East again—

It reaches to the Fence—
It wraps it, Rail by Rail
Till it is lost in fleeces—
It deals Celestial Veil

To stump and stack—and stem —
The Summer's empty Room—
Acres of Joints, where Harvests were,
Recordless, but for them—

It Ruffles Wrists of Posts,
As Ankles of a Queen—
Then stills its Artisans—like Ghosts—
Denying they have been—