Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.057 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.

At the Closed Gate of Justice

by James D. Corrothers

0.3190 − 0.1117i

Drawing the boundary…

A Love Song

by D. H. Lawrence

0.2868 − 0.0648i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

At the Closed Gate of Justice

by James D. Corrothers

To be a Negro in a day like this
Demands forgiveness. Bruised with blow on blow,
Betrayed, like him whose woe dimmed eyes gave bliss,
Still must one succor those who brought one low,
To be a Negro in a day like this.

To be a Negro in a day like this
Demands rare patience—patience that can wait
In utter darkness. 'Tis the path to miss,
And knock, unheeded, at an iron gate,
To be a Negro in a day like this.

To be a Negro in a day like this
Demands strange loyalty. We serve a flag
Which is to us white freedom's emphasis.
Ah! one must love when Truth and Justice lag,
To be a Negro in a day like this.

To be a Negro in a day like this—
Alas! Lord God, what evil have we done?
Still shines the gate, all gold and amethyst,
But I pass by, the glorious goal unwon,
"Merely a Negro"—in a day like this!

A Love Song

by D. H. Lawrence

Reject me not if I should say to you
I do forget the sounding of your voice,  
I do forget your eyes that searching through  
The mists perceive our marriage, and rejoice.  
 
Yet, when the apple-blossom opens wide
Under the pallid moonlight’s fingering,  
I see your blanched face at my breast, and hide  
My eyes from diligent work, malingering.  
 
Ah, then, upon my bedroom I do draw  
The blind to hide the garden, where the moon
Enjoys the open blossoms as they straw  
Their beauty for his taking, boon for boon.  
 
And I do lift my aching arms to you,  
And I do lift my anguished, avid breast,  
And I do weep for very pain of you,
And fling myself at the doors of sleep, for rest.  
 
And I do toss through the troubled night for you,  
Dreaming your yielded mouth is given to mine,  
Feeling your strong breast carry me on into  
The peace where sleep is stronger even than wine.

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