Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.025 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.

The Lady of Shalott

by Richard

−0.4894 − 0.2305i

Drawing the boundary…

Sometimes the Sky’s Too Bright

by Dylan Thomas

−0.4645 − 0.2357i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Lady of Shalott

by Richard

By the river Camelot, a tower stands tall
Where the Lady of Shalott weaves within her hall
Cursed to never gaze upon the world outside
Her fate is sealed, her life denied

Weaving her tapestry, day by day
Cursed to never look upon the world 
Trapped inside her tower, she must stay
Her gaze is fixed, her fate is unfurled

Oh the Lady of Shalott
Bound by a spell, her life forgot
Mirrored images, her only lot
Oh the Lady of Shalott

Sir Lancelot rides by, a dazzling sight
She glimpses him, her heart begins to race
Forsaking her loom, she steps into the light 
And walks towards her doom, with sorrow on her face

The curse has taken hold, her world starts to fade
Down to the river, her boat is made
Drifting away, her song is played

In the river she lies, pale and still
Lancelot gazes on, his heart does not thrill
"She has a lovely face," he says with a will
Oh the Lady of Shalott

Sometimes the Sky’s Too Bright

by Dylan Thomas

Sometimes the sky’s too bright,
Or has too many clouds or birds,
And far away’s too sharp a sun
To nourish thinking of him.
Why is my hand too blunt
To cut in front of me
My horrid images for me,
Of over-fruitful smiles,
The weightless touching of the lip
I wish to know
I cannot lift, but can,
The creature with the angel’s face
Who tells me hurt,
And sees my body go
Down into misery?
No stopping. Put the smile
Where tears have come to dry.
The angel’s hurt is left;
His telling burns.

Sometimes a woman’s heart has salt,
Or too much blood;
I tear her breast,
And see the blood is mine,
Flowing from her but mine,
And then I think
Perhaps the sky’s too bright;
And watch my hand,
But do not follow it,
And feel the pain it gives,
But do not ache.

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