Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.032 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.

Dry-Point

by Philip Arthur Larkin

−0.5004 − 0.1326i

Drawing the boundary…

Memory

by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

−0.5043 − 0.1005i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Dry-Point

by Philip Arthur Larkin

Endlessly, time-honoured irritant,
A bubble is restively forming at your tip.
Burst it as fast as we can —
It will grow again, until we begin dying.

Silently it inflates, till we're enclosed 
And forced to start the struggle to get out:
Bestial, intent, real.
The wet spark comes, the bright blown walls collapse,

But what sad scapes we cannot turn from then:
What ashen hills! what salted, shrunken lakes!
How leaden the ring looks,
Birmingham magic all discredited,

And how remote that bare and sunscrubbed room, 
Intensely far, that padlocked cube of light 
We neither define nor prove,
Where you, we dream, obtain no right of entry.

Memory

by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

My mind lets go a thousand things,
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,
And yet recalls the very hour —
'T was noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue noon in May —
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then, pausing here, set down its load
Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild-rose tree.

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