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Presto! A Helical Hem
June 26, 2012 6:27 AM   Subscribe

1,143,839,622,748,050,000,000,000,000 Sonnet Anagrams and oodles of other oddities from Mike Keith involving constrained writing, mathematics, music, and the number π.
posted by Wolfdog (12 comments total) 25 users marked this as a favorite

 
The Anagrammed Bible is blowing my mind. (translated from pilish)
posted by DU at 6:38 AM on June 26, 2012


I like whatever this is.
posted by shakespeherian at 6:44 AM on June 26, 2012


Restate my assumptions: One, Mathematics is the language of poetry. Two, Everything around us can be represented and understood through verse. Three: If you graph the meter of any verse, poems emerge. Therefore, there are sonnets everywhere in nature...
posted by Cookiebastard at 7:20 AM on June 26, 2012 [1 favorite]


No abler, droller
ergodic letter man
metricated longer
than Oulipo can.
O lunatic Pan!
Combinatorial sonnets!
Ba! A town loon's cretinisms
rely on much bad camp.
No! A barrel roll was done
by Marcel Duchamp.

[I guess it's not really ergodic at all, or too coherent.]

Why Torquay? I think this is my favourite FPP I've ever seen.
posted by kengraham at 7:44 AM on June 26, 2012


Whoa. Thanks.
posted by davidjmcgee at 8:17 AM on June 26, 2012


Not, I fear, a sound commenter in Pilish.
posted by Segundus at 8:25 AM on June 26, 2012 [1 favorite]


Can I post a valid following in Pilish?
posted by Obscure Reference at 9:21 AM on June 26, 2012


Since tau day is 2 days away, and, unlike in pi, a zero digit shows up early, I wondered how this is handled in Pilish? I found an answer!
posted by Obscure Reference at 9:39 AM on June 26, 2012 [1 favorite]


With random life the author's landscape goes:
State boundaries, neurotic alchemy,
The pleasing county dwarf, a brittle hose;
These hold the tired mountains earnestly.
posted by hat_eater at 1:28 PM on June 26, 2012


Let's dance like it's 1961.
posted by lipsum at 1:46 PM on June 26, 2012


This rules! My favorite so far:

We find that soon the melodies turn gray
Our flesh an empty mold, a winter sigh.
This order ends the fruitless Roman way
Sense each blouse open thrown at Sigma Chi.

With random life the author's landscape goes:
Some trail cut and a rustic honeybee,
That fiercely hated blow, a spurting nose;
No matter, these should die here instantly.

With haunted hope, if lethal traitors sneer
When men in arms the battlegrounds foreswore
Shall standard weapon rays go to the pier?
Felled converts want the humorist Al Gore.

To catch the pints around the boarded slum
O face his sad tomb, note the gentle strum.


Like, deep, man.
posted by ShawnStruck at 2:26 PM on June 26, 2012


At first I was impressed....but now I'm not so sure.
I’m finding lots of repetition of sentences.
In about 3 minutes the first line came up as the same, 7 times!
maybe I don’t understand this correctly? Am I expecting too much?
posted by quazichimp at 2:49 AM on June 27, 2012


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