Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.026 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 Woman with Jewels

by Lola Ridge

−0.1359 + 0.7440i

Drawing the boundary…

O Ailing Love

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

−0.1122 + 0.7549i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Woman with Jewels

by Lola Ridge

The woman with jewels sits in the café,
Spraying light like a fountain.
Diamonds glitter on her bulbous fingers
And on her arms, great as thighs,
Diamonds gush from her ear-lobes over the goitrous throat.
She is obesely beautiful.
Her eyes are full of bleared lights,
Like little pools of tar, spilled by a sailor in mad haste for shore…
And her mouth is scarlet and full—only a little crumpled—like a flower that has been pressed apart…

Why does she come alone to this obscure basement —
She who should have a litter and hand-maidens to support her on either side?

She ascends the stairway, and the waiters turn to look at her, spilling the soup.
The black satin dress is a little lifted, showing the dropsical legs in their silken fleshings…
The mountainous breasts tremble…
There is an agitation in her gems,
That quiver incessantly, emitting trillions of fiery rays…

She erupts explosive breaths…
Every step is an adventure
From this…
The serpent's tooth
Saved Cleopatra.

O Ailing Love

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

O ailing Love, compose your struggling wing!
Confess you mortal; be content to die.
How better dead, than be this awkward thing
Dragging in dust its feathers of the sky,
Hitching and rearing, plunging beak to loam,
Upturned, disheveled, utt’ring a weak sound
Less proud than of the gull that rakes the foam,
Less kind than of the hawk that scours the ground.
While yet your awful beauty, even at bay,
Beats off the impious eye, the outstretched hand,
And what your hue or fashion none can say,
Vanish, be fled, leave me a wingless land . . .
Save where one moment down the quiet tide
Fades a white swan, with a black swan beside.

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