Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.065 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.

Kinsey Keene

by Edgar Lee Masters

−0.1059 + 1.2287i

Drawing the boundary…

Yet Sing Low

by Edgar Lee Masters

−0.1375 + 1.2860i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Kinsey Keene

by Edgar Lee Masters

Your attention, Thomas Rhodes, president of the bank;
Coolbaugh Whedon, editor of the Argus;
Rev. Peet, pastor of the leading church;
A. D. Blood, several times Mayor of Spoon River;
And finally all of you, members of the Social Purity Club—
Your attention to Cambronne's dying words,
Standing with the heroic remnant
Of Napoleon's guard on Mount Saint Jean
At the battlefield of Waterloo,
When Maitland, the Englishman, called to them,
"Surrender, brave Frenchmen!"—
There at close of day, with the battle hopelessly lost,
And hordes of men, no longer the army
Of the great Napoleon,
Streamed from the field like ragged strips
Of thunder clouds in the storm.
Well, what Cambronne said to Maitland,
Ere the English fire made smooth the brow of the hill
Against the sinking light of day,
Say I to you, and all of you,
And to you, O world.
And I charge you to carve it
Upon my stone.

Yet Sing Low

by Edgar Lee Masters

Yee Bow was killed by the son of Rev. Wiley;
And they wound his pigtail around his head,
And buried him near Chase Henry.
No laundry for me,
But the Golden Pheasant,
Where I served steak as well as chop suey.
And I wore their clothes and cut my queue,
And read the magazines and the dailies,
No longer a Chinese heathen.
But did I forget my City of Flowers?
No! For I lighted my pipe and dreamed:
And the waterspouts on Bindle's Block
Were twisted dolphins on temple roofs;
The ash barrels in the alley became
Buddhas in bronze by an ivied wall;
The water tower seemed like a pagoda
At Ta-Li Fu, and the lilac bushes
Spread into courtyards full of blossoms.
Ding! went the register, boom went the drum,
As the Salvation Army passed and shouted
The blood of the Lamb…but I heard the bells
And gongs of Buddha, on high, far away,
Where a poppy moon hangs over the hills
As yellow as moth wings, under a sky
As white as the shrines or the glistening streams
In the Valley of Fragrant Springs!

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