Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.024 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.

Mankind is sick

by Thomas Traherne

0.0741 − 0.0427i

Drawing the boundary…

Hatred

by Gwendolyn B. Bennett

0.0821 − 0.0197i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Mankind is sick

by Thomas Traherne

Mankind is sick, the World distemper'd lies,
Opprest with Sins and Miseries.
Their Sins are Woes; a long corrupted Train
Of Poyson, drawn from Adam's vein,
Stains all his Seed, and all his Kin
Are one Disease of Life within.
They all torment themselves!
The World's one Bedlam, or a greater Cave
Of Mad-men, that do alwaies rave.

The Wise and Good like kind Physicians are,
That strive to heal them by their Care.
They Physick and their Learning calmly use,
Although the Patient them abuse.
For since the Sickness is (they find)
A sad Distemper of the Mind;
All railings they impute,
All Injuries, unto the sore Disease,
They are expresly come to ease!

If we would to the Worlds distemper'd Mind
Impute the Rage which there we find,
We might, even in the midst of all our Foes,
Enjoy and feel a sweet Repose:
Might pity all the Griefs we see,
Anointing every Malady
With precious Oyl and Balm;
And while ourselves are Calm, our Art improve
To rescue them, and shew our Love.

Hatred

by Gwendolyn B. Bennett

I shall hate you
Like a dart of singing steel
Shot through still air
At even-tide.
Or solemnly
As pines are sober
When they stand etched
Against the sky.
Hating you shall be a game
Played with cool hands
And slim fingers.
Your heart will yearn
For the lonely splendor
Of the pine tree;
While rekindled fires
In my eyes
Shall wound you like swift arrows.
Memory will lay its hands
Upon your breast
And you will understand
My hatred.

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