Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.028 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.

The Widow's Jazz

by Mina Loy

−0.4562 − 1.0340i

Drawing the boundary…

Bright cap and streamers

by James Joyce

−0.4606 − 1.0066i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Widow's Jazz

by Mina Loy

The white flesh quakes to the negro soul
Chicago! Chicago!

An uninterpretable wail
stirs in a tangle of pale snakes

to the lethargic ecstasy of steps
backing into primeval goal

White man quit his actin' wise
colored folk hab de moon in dere eyes

Haunted by wind instruments
in groves of grace

the maiden saplings
slant to the oboes
and shampooed gigolos
prowl to the sobbing taboos.

An electric crown
crashes the furtive cargoes of the floor.

the pruned contours
dissolve
in the brazen shallows of dissonance
revolving mimes

of the encroaching Eros
in adolescence

The black brute-angels
in their human gloves
bellow through a monstrous growth of metal trunks

and impish musics
crumble the ecstatic loaf
before a swooning flock of doves.

Cravan
colossal absentee
the substitute dark
rolls to the incandescent memory

of love's survivor
on this rich suttee

seared by the flames of sound
the widowed urn

holds impotently
your murdered laughter

Husband
how secretly you cuckold me with death

while this cajoling jazz
blows with its tropic breath
among the echoes of the flesh
a synthesis
of racial caress

The seraph and the ass
in this unerring esperanto
of the earth
converse
of everlit delight

as my desire
receded
to the distance of the dead

searches
the opaque silence
of unpeopled space.

Bright cap and streamers

by James Joyce

Bright cap and streamers,
    He sings in the hollow:
    Come follow, come follow,
        All you that love.
Leave dreams to the dreamers
    That will not after,
    That song and laughter
        Do nothing move.

With ribbons streaming
    He sings the bolder;
    In troop at his shoulder
        The wild bees hum.
And the time of dreaming
    Dreams is over—
    As lover to lover,
        Sweetheart, I come.

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