Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.014 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.

Written for a Personal Epitaph

by Dylan Thomas

0.0029 − 0.0737i

Drawing the boundary…

To Ruin

by Robert Burns

−0.0069 − 0.0832i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Written for a Personal Epitaph

by Dylan Thomas

Feeding the worm
Who do I blame 
Because laid down 
At last by time,
Here under the earth with girl and thief,
Who do I blame?
Mother I blame 
Whose loving crime 
Moulded my form 
Within her womb,
Who gave me life and then the grave,
Mother I blame.
Here is her labour’s end,
Dead limb and mind,
All love and sweat 
Gone now to rot.
I am man’s reply to every question,
His aim and destination.

To Ruin

by Robert Burns

All hail! inexorable lord!
At whose destruction-breathing word,
The mightiest empires fall!
Thy cruel, woe-delighted train,
The ministers of grief and pain,
A sullen welcome, all!
With stern-resolv'd, despairing eye,
I see each aimed dart;
For one has cut my dearest tie,
And quivers in my heart.
Then low'ring and pouring,
The storm no more I dread;
Though thick'ning and black'ning,
Round my devoted head.

And thou grim pow'r, by life abhorr'd,
While life a pleasure can afford,
Oh! hear a wretch's prayer!
No more I shrink appall'd, afraid;
I court, I beg thy friendly aid,
To close this scene of care!
When shall my soul, in silent peace,
Resign life's joyless day;
My weary heart its throbbings cease,
Cold mould'ring in the clay?
No fear more, no tear more,
To stain my lifeless face;
Enclasped, and grasped
Within thy cold embrace!

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