Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.034 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.

Pandora's Curse

by Richard

−0.5037 − 0.1987i

Drawing the boundary…

Palace of the Babies

by Wallace Stevens

−0.5381 − 0.1972i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Pandora's Curse

by Richard

Clay molded me, a gift divine
In Zeus's garden, where sunlight would shine
The gods all warned, with furrowed brow
A jar I held, a forbidden vow

"Pandora's Box," they said with fear
"Leave it untouched, my child, hold it dear
For inside it churns, a tempestuous sea
Of woes untold, a misery"

Days turned to years, the silence grew loud
The whispers of secrets, a tempting shroud
What wonders hid, in that polished gleam?
A curiosity bloomed, a forbidden dream

"Pandora's Box," I'd whisper at night
"Just a peek inside, to set things right?"
The seal gave way, with a hesitant sigh
And a whirlwind erupted, beneath the sky

Sickness and sorrow, a plague on the breeze
Anger and envy, brought mortals to their knees
The world we knew, turned bleak and cold
A paradise lost, a story untold

Pandora's Box, a burden I hold
The weight of the world, a story to be told
But nestled within, a flickering flame
A sliver of hope, to whisper my name

Hope, it remains, a fragile thread
To mend what's broken, the words left unsaid
A curse I unleashed, a lesson learned well
Curiosity's bite, a sorrowful spell
But with trembling hands, I'll rise from the dust
And rebuild the future, in flickering trust

Palace of the Babies

by Wallace Stevens

The disbeliever walked the moonlit place,
Outside of gates of hammered serafin,
Observing the moon-blotches on the walls.

The yellow rocked across the still facades,
Or else sat spinning on the pinnacles,
While he imagined humming sounds and sleep.

The walker in the moonlight walked alone,
And each blank window of the building balked
His loneliness and what was in his mind:

If in a shimmering room the babies came,
Drawn close by dreams of fledgling wing,
It was because night nursed them in its fold.

Night nursed not him in whose dark mind
The clambering wings of birds of black revolved,
Making harsh torment of the solitude.

The walker in the moonlight walked alone,
And in his heart his disbelief lay cold.
His broad-brimmed hat came close upon his eyes.

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