Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.015 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.

Politicians

by Orrick Johns

0.0428 − 0.2151i

Drawing the boundary…

The Cuckoo Sings in the Heart of Winter

by Nora Hopper Chesson

0.0572 − 0.2118i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Politicians

by Orrick Johns

De way dem fellers jaws
Of de State, an' Gawd, an' Laws,
Dey'd give ya room ta t'ink dey was de t'ree;
Ya'd say dere breath was legal,
An' dat dey was Gawd's own ekal,
An' dey wasn't born somehow like you an' me!

It's talk, talk, talk,
An' den dey walks de chalk,
But it's never quite de same as wot they do!
It's "feller men an' friends"—
But believe me, bo, dat ends!
When dey gits alone it's me a' pluckin' you!

When dem guys is on dere legs
Say, bo, dey'll walk on eggs—
Ya'd t'ink dere folks had growed 'em under glass!
But believe me, tain't de same
When dere back into de game —
It's grab de stuff, an' do it rough, an' don't let nuttin' pass!

It's talk, talk, talk,
An' den dey walks de chalk,
But it's never quite de same as wot they do!
It's "feller men an' friends"—
But believe me, bo, dat ends!
When dey gits alone it's me a' pluckin' you!

Say, let 'em t'row dat bluff
If dey ain't got cards enuff,
Let 'em shuffle Gawd an' glory in de pack!
If ya know, ya'll understand
Dat when any guy's a man —
Well, bo, dere ain't much change a'comin' back!

It's talk, talk, talk,
An' den dey walks de chalk,
But it's never quite de same as wot they do!
It's "feller men an' friends"—
But believe me, bo, dat ends!
When dey gits alone it's me a' pluckin' you!

The Cuckoo Sings in the Heart of Winter

by Nora Hopper Chesson

The cuckoo sings in the heart of winter, 
And all for Mauryeen he tunes his song; 
How Mauryeen's hair is the honey's colour 
(He sings of her all the winter long!) 

Her long loose hair's of the honey's colour, 
The wild sweet honey that wild bees make, 
The sun herself is ashamed before her, 
The moon is pale for her gold cool's sake. 

She bound her hair of the honey's colour, 
With flowers of yarrow and quicken green: 
And now one binds it with leaves of willow, 
And cypress lies where my head has been. 

Now robins sing beside Pastheen's doorway, 
And wrens for bounty that Grania gave: 
The cuckoo sings in the heart of winter, 
He sings all day beside Mauryeen's grave. 

—
—
0:00
0:00
Track 1
Skip to main content