Read history: so learn your place in Time; And go to sleep: all this was done before; We do it better, fouling every shore; We disinfect, we do not probe, the crime. Our engines plunge into the seas, they climb Above our atmosphere: we grow not more Profound as we approach the ocean’s floor; Our flight is lofty, it is not sublime.
Yet long ago this Earth by struggling men Was scuffed, was scraped by mouths that bubbled mud; And will be so again, and yet again; Until we trace our poison to its bud And root, and there uproot it: until then, Earth will be warmed each winter by man’s blood.
In my Cot, tho' small's my store, I on pleasure's lap recline, What cou'd fortune give me more? Laura, beauteous Laura's mine. Hence Ambition! hence away! Thine's an empty pleasure Trust me that of Life's short day, Love alone's the treasure. War! I hate thy blood-stained wreath, Pow'r! thy sparkling crown I scorn, While my tranquil Cot beneath, Mine's the wreath by lovers worn, Laura's smiles make labour gay, And enrapture leisure Proving still of Life's short day, Love alone's the treasure.
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Track 1
How this picture is made
What a fractal is
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.
How the boundary is drawn
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.
What the branching signifies
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.