As one that would draw thru the node of things, Back sweeping to the vortex of the cone, Cloistered about with memories, alone In chaos, while the waiting silence sings:
Obliviate of cycles' wanderings I was an atom on creation's throne And knew all nothing my unconquered own. God! Should I be the hand upon the strings?!
But I was lonely as a lonely child. I cried amid the void and heard no cry, And then for utter loneliness, made I New thoughts as crescent images of me. And with them was my essence reconciled While fear went forth from mine eternity.
The tortoiseshell cat, She sits on the mat, As gay as a sunflower she; In orange and black you see her wink, And her waistcoat’s white and her nose is pink, And her eyes are as green as the sea. But all is vanity, all the way; Twilight’s coming and close of day, And every cat in the twilight’s gray, Every possible cat.
The tortoiseshell cat, She is smooth and fat, And we call her Josephine, Because she weareth upon her back This coat of colours, this raven black, This red of tangerine; But all is vanity, all the way; Twilight follows the brightest day, And every cat in the twilight’s gray, Every possible cat.
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Track 1
How this picture is made
What a fractal is
A fractal is a shape that keeps its pattern when you look closer. Coastlines, trees, shells, and weather do this. The large form and the small form are the same kind of thing. A poem can be drawn that way. The shape of the whole comes from the shape of the lines.
Primunia is the name for the source of that order: the pattern under the pattern, already there in a tree, a shell, and a verse.
How the boundary is drawn
The number under the picture is the poem constant. It is read from the build of the lines: their length, how uneven they are, the size of the stanzas, the share of vowels, and the way the lines end. A new word moves the number when it changes that build. The same poem always gives the same number.
Drawn on its own, that number sits in a quiet part of the plane, and most poems would look like the same soft disk. So the number is carried outward along its own direction until it meets the edge of the Mandelbrot set, where the shape turns sharp. The picture is the Julia set of that meeting place.
Each point on the canvas is folded again and again by one small rule. Points that stay near the rule form the dark interior. Points that rush away become the coloured bands. The hue comes from the poem constant, and the brightest bands turn toward gold. Change the length of a line, the stanza, or the vowel share, and both the number and the picture move.
What the branching signifies
Branching draws the poem as a tree. Each turn follows a line, and every smaller branch repeats that pattern. A longer line reaches farther. The letters at the start of a line bend the next turn. A higher share of vowels opens the branches wider.
The trunk takes its colour from the poem constant and warms toward gold at the tips. When the poem has more than one stanza, gold forks leave the trunk. Each fork is a stanza beyond the first, up to three. The tree divides where the poem divides. One stanza remains a single trunk.