Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.010 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.

Echoes

by Hart Crane

0.0285 − 0.6966i

Drawing the boundary…

On the French Convention

by John Skinner

0.0252 − 0.6873i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Echoes

by Hart Crane

Slivers of rain upon the pane,
Jade-green with sunlight, melt and flow
Upward again:— they leave no stain
Of all the storm an hour ago.

Over the hill a last cloud dips
And disappears, and I should go
As silently but that your lips
Are warmer with a redder glow.

Fresh and fragile, your arms now
Are circles of cool roses,—so….
In opal pools beneath your brow
I dream we quarreled long, long ago.

On the French Convention

by John Skinner

What stupid creatures are the French,
Quite free from superstition;
Yet when they die, 'tis hard to say,
What can be their condition?

Of Heaven they entertain no thought,
Since it can no way fit them;
And as for Hell, the despot there
Has more sense than admit them.

If then for Hell they have no chance,
And to Heav'n have no pretension;
Some other dwelling must be found,
To lodge the French Convention.

Or, as their new philosophy
Has laid the fine foundation,
Their only prospect now must be
A blest annihilation.

How must these miscreant wretches move
Our anger, or our laughter,
Who wish to live like monsters here,
And nothing be hereafter!

Preserve us, Reason, taught by Grace,
From reveries so beastly;
By whomsoever set afloat,
By Price, or Payne, or Priestly.

May Britons thankful still, and wise,
Beware of Gallic leaven;
So we need have no fear of Hell,
And grace will give us Heaven.

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