Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.023 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.

Nature

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

−0.6883 − 0.2894i

Drawing the boundary…

See, says the lime

by Dylan Thomas

−0.6974 − 0.3103i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Nature

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

A subtle chain of countless rings
The next unto the farthest brings;
The eye reads omens where it goes,
And speaks all languages the rose;
And, striving to be man, the worm
Mounts through all the spires of form.

The rounded world is fair to see,
Nine times folded in mystery:
Though baffled seers cannot impart
The secret of its laboring heart,
Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast,
And all is clear from east to west.
Spirit that lurks each form within
Beckons to spirit of its kin;
Self-kindled every atom glows
And hints the future which it owes.

See, says the lime

by Dylan Thomas

See, says the lime, my wicked milks
I put round ribs that packed their heart,
And elbowed veins that, nudging blood,
Roused it to fire;
Once in this clay fenced by the sticks
That starry fence the clay of light
The howling spirit shaped a god
Of death’s undoer.

On these blue lips, the lime remarks,
The wind of kisses sealed a pact
That leaping veins threw to the wind
And brains turned sour;
The blood got up as red as wax
As kisses froze the waxing thought,
The spirit racked its muscles and
The loins cried murder.

The strings of fire choked his sex
And tied an iris in his throat
To burst into a hanging land
Where flesh’s fever
Itched on the hangman’s silks;
The brains of death undid the knot
Before the blood and flame were twined
In love’s last collar.

See, says the lime, around these wrecks 
Of growing bones the muscles slid ;
I chalked upon the breastbone’s slate
And ran a river
Up through the fingers’ cracks;
The milk of death, I filled the hand
That drove my stuff through skin and gut;
Death’s death’s undoer.

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