Time
Time is very short.
Take it by the year,—
Take them by the hundred,
Shorter they appear.
Time is very long.
Take it by the day,—
Longest time of all,
As the seconds tick away.
Poem fractal
0.150 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.
0.3858 − 1.3521i
Drawing the boundary…
by Mina Loy
0.2365 − 1.3370i
Drawing the boundary…
Each poem scrolls on its own, so the two texts stay beside each other.
Time is very short.
Take it by the year,—
Take them by the hundred,
Shorter they appear.
Time is very long.
Take it by the day,—
Longest time of all,
As the seconds tick away.
by Mina Loy
Surreptitious fanfare
of unadams
amingle with ouradams
a seemingly uniform guesthood
met in unsolemn sociability
the amiable scuffle
of cocktail party.
Hooveless fauns
their goat-haunch
discard to antiquity
their hairiness
woven to our worsted.
Most smiles are similes
some
almost imperceptibly
simper to mystery—
As were the tail of the eye
lidded with unlisted likings
on ocular trail
of invitation
to untypical trysts
As were the tail of the eye
feeling for fallacious Foci
a Flitting tongue
licking its luminous chops
o'er tit-bits of other tastes
undue
to the apple
the devil
delivered to Eve.
Neo-Fauns
Whom no forestal feminae
need flee
Altered is the prey.
Of priceless use to civilization
You faun
are balm
to night-club addict
undercover-virgin
for whom
Adonis as escort
—obliging her prestige
as cosmetics her cheek—
is a must.
Faun in you
may she trust
to stage no thrust
of Sabine rape
behind the chauffeur's back
O unisex
Black marketing Amor
with your intermuscular caress
of wrestling entry
to Felicity's
unsentinelled
Arcana.
Your something-for-nothing
Variance
to infertile "Sin."
You
dual yet single
Votaries of Venuseros
As in Athens
So in Manhattan
Erosvenus evoes
his-her worshipper
or whispers
Eros is ours
for is not
Eros
forever overall
a male?
Or implores
for fauns' ease.
Quiet please!
As mondial calliopes
Blaring the bisexual norm
foment the Fauns'
allergy to diapers.
A fractal is a shape that keeps its pattern when you look closer. Coastlines, trees, shells, and weather do this. The large form and the small form are the same kind of thing. A poem can be drawn that way. The shape of the whole comes from the shape of the lines.
Primunia is the name for the source of that order: the pattern under the pattern, already there in a tree, a shell, and a verse.
The number under the picture is the poem constant. It is read from the build of the lines: their length, how uneven they are, the size of the stanzas, the share of vowels, and the way the lines end. A new word moves the number when it changes that build. The same poem always gives the same number.
Drawn on its own, that number sits in a quiet part of the plane, and most poems would look like the same soft disk. So the number is carried outward along its own direction until it meets the edge of the Mandelbrot set, where the shape turns sharp. The picture is the Julia set of that meeting place.
Each point on the canvas is folded again and again by one small rule. Points that stay near the rule form the dark interior. Points that rush away become the coloured bands. The hue comes from the poem constant, and the brightest bands turn toward gold. Change the length of a line, the stanza, or the vowel share, and both the number and the picture move.
Branching draws the poem as a tree. Each turn follows a line, and every smaller branch repeats that pattern. A longer line reaches farther. The letters at the start of a line bend the next turn. A higher share of vowels opens the branches wider.
The trunk takes its colour from the poem constant and warms toward gold at the tips. When the poem has more than one stanza, gold forks leave the trunk. Each fork is a stanza beyond the first, up to three. The tree divides where the poem divides. One stanza remains a single trunk.
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