Pi Py Poetry, Pi Day Remix
Its 3:14 on 3/14 (2016)! Time for some Vandal Poem of the Day (VPOD) poetry remix using OpenRefine and Python.
First, I grabbed all of the poems from VPOD.
Then I parsed it all using OpenRefine.
I Refined it down to a table with these columns: title, author, poem, words, length. Each row represents one line from a poem in the corpus. The line is in the ‘poem’ column. The ‘words’ column is a count of words in the line, created in OpenRefine with new column based on ‘poem’ > length(value.ngram(1)). The ‘length’ column is character count of the line, created in OpenRefine with new column based on ‘poem’ > length(value). The ‘title’ and ‘length’ are not used in this example. To simplify I sorted on ‘words’ and used only 1 through 9, since these will match the Pi digits.
Then I went into Jupyter Notebook to get started generating poems with Python:
# import stuff import pandas as pd import random # create pandas dataframe from the poem CSV poemDF = pd.read_csv('VPODpoemLines1-9.csv') # create list with digits of Pi piDigits = [3, 1, 4, 1, 5, 9, 2, 6, 5, 3, 5, 8, 9, 7, 9, 3, 2, 3, 8, 4, 6, 2, 6, 4, 3, 3, 8, 3, 2, 7, 9, 5, 0, 2, 8, 8, 4, 1, 9, 7, 1, 6, 9, 3, 9, 9, 3, 7, 5, 1, 0, 5, 8, 2, 0, 9, 7, 4, 9, 4, 4]
This gave me a dataframe with 3344 rows (i.e. lines of poetry. I should have brought it down to 3,141!), representing lines of from 155 poems by 18 VPOD authors. Find that info with:
Okay, now we can make some new remix Pi Py Poems:
# create a random poem based on digits of Pi # first decide number of lines in the poem, # I based this on the approximate range observed in the corpus poemLength = random.randrange(5,60) # create a poem of that random length # the digits of Pi are the number of words per line for i in range(poemLength): if piDigits[i] == 0: print("\n") else: newLine = poemDF[poemDF['words'] == piDigits[i]].sample().values print(newLine)
Some Pi Py Poems:
Then more lights undefeated, as a train speeding prose Her curling makes me shiver how to open the airway of a fellow passenger it's lying and I marry you each day. Because my heart could not what they were like the residue of beets I can do so only for a moment. barrel, she broke him. She gave the worst smile: has approved all your plans, so you I could never deny it, or disown my desire No, he said. the feet black bird hunched But it's a reassuring logic that rivers freeze Now I remember something
Because of breathing. * and the snow outside * and burning whatever is there. We'd rut a ditch by a river in nights everyone with violet towers. We scour the earth If you write “ironic detachment” we couldn't hear breaker of others' bones, parachuter, The one called Chukwu? Just one word: God. with a plastic teapot for my sister's tea party. a child's Christmas miracle that I let Can I come back up now? asks the chair my worldly nature Or burn are spelling someone's but more and more it seems it won't. It looks like smoke the mustached man with his shoulders to disappear when it is opened or closed. affix their wintry incubus, our scarves, shrink and life, less Enter a room as though it is strange. holding a jar Glass skins the wonder of them, good or bad, I know you… the skin graft on your cheek, to dream up only this. emitted light a new home, maybe you'll search and petition But it's a reassuring logic that rivers freeze like some plastic beads Yes. maybe you no longer haul those wounds with you
off the closets they're and trained it stranger Delivered some type of old-fashioned candy Think of the flesh on an angel's hips, pinched in our to do-- an aperture, a slur-- And blown between adjacent bridges the giant translucent light. And after the light, I eat what's put in front of me, my fear of needles, my cravings for salty food, with empty wine jugs at our heels. of the space movie we all stood in line she came over in our a phoenix preening to empty your bright dress onto the floor, fringe on brown pain Even if I have convinced you, fair, alone. a world flashes by, and opposite, certain spells to protect in the morning of not remembering with a dark beer or hand out leaflets Washed in salt The current then finger, forearm and elbow. Curl yourself No I am not afraid of the eye chart: there are experts among us The current made a circus of it. Asthma, weeping, elephants, and through my reading to a deafening applause. and hope it's clear. alive to own anything with and without blood. Cash rules On the shore, the line of unannointed undefeated, Consume me and find me worthy. You knock and knock at a door, it won't to live. Mother, feel silly in your grief. And still you'll sit by the heat in the tips of her fingers. even on holidays. the silhouette of a single red-mouthed bell;
Next I wanted to add authors to the Pi Py Poems. I modified the poem-creating loop like this:
poemLength = random.randrange(5,60) author = 'Pi Py Poetry' # create a poem of that random length # the digits of Pi are the number of words per line for i in range(poemLength): if piDigits[i] == 0: print("\n") else: newLine = poemDF[poemDF['words'] == piDigits[i]].sample() author += ', ' + newLine.values line = newLine.values print(line) print('\nBy '+author)
The New poems result in a crazy looking author list, but you can track down the original lines by author (potentially). More examples are below.
More Pi Py Poetry from VPOD
in another room rereading in magic cochineal pants. Shifting snaps free. Sunflash, stereo store, The sage and tomato plants tanning on the veranda. The current and pretend we are lying there which said he was born I once read and you're never getting out. places to disappear but it was fooling itself, they are stuffed in every corner of a house all this silence and emptiness and rust for the certainty of home, for mills and reservoirs Every question, conversation beneath the I do remember I close the shop at six. Welcome wind, this time of year to step from the wrought-iron compartment, She's alive only a dream is so lucky. dressed like a rabbit think they're alone. Resurrection and crucifixion. Whatever you say sounds better with your thigh I float bestowing without knowing I'll admit, she's earned her orchestra seats they attempt to pull the survivor from its flood there remains more to learn. how often. Not like what they told us at all in a field, two and a half days. But I'm dry now, rereading The pay toilets where we sat without paper. Rain. There is a dawn between my legs, embarrassing covers from romance novels, their heroines And a call to joy-- a landscape, a face-- then thrown away to love the dark. I love it so much you feel sick in ways you thought not possible. sip false peace who are dead now laugh and laugh. grow especially talkative at night, senseless. By Pi Py Poetry, Laura Kasischke, C.D. Wright, Natalie Diaz, Laura Kasischke, James Arthur, Roger Reeves, Kerry James Evans, Natalie Diaz, Matthew Zapruder, Matthew Zapruder, Mark Bibbins, Dean Young, Valzhyna Mort, Laura Kasischke, James Arthur, Dean Young, Michael Dickman, Matthew Zapruder, C.D. Wright, Brenda Shaughnessy, C.D. Wright, Michael Dickman, Brenda Shaughnessy, Matthew Zapruder, Brenda Shaughnessy, Chris Abani, Mark Bibbins, Matthew Zapruder, Matthew Zapruder, Erin Belieu, Sherwin Bitsui, Lisa Olstein, Brenda Shaughnessy, Michael Dickman, Lisa Olstein, Kerry James Evans, C.D. Wright, C.D. Wright, Natalie Diaz, Brenda Shaughnessy, Erin Belieu, Sarah Lindsay, Valzhyna Mort, Lisa Olstein, Chris Abani, Matthew Zapruder, Laura Kasischke, C.D. Wright, Brenda Shaughnessy
but there's still being Tunisia of desert silence 6 tell us his tired children Coupling beneath my feet. I want the body's burden, could theoretically should I wish to review them. contain you, it refused sympathy, Cigarette in hand. while you sleep? Sleeping is trapped in the bill of a circling bird, and I don't bruise easily, that I am yours so two sets of passengers come eye-to-eye because your hemisphere has rolled away from the sun, turns into breath and senses a phoenix preening it's my leg lifted over my man's body. Consumers will pay more belled purple cluster, I'd rather plump-girl- books die As always I can do nothing. have forgotten fear, apparently a phoenix preening traveling toward us I stomp down a refinery, trail a scat Not your name if stars a blood orange swelling like a breast-- for slavers. In the lake, red dye bubbles up to be mauled by wolves heaven, like that will eventually like me into the earth wiping his greasy hands on a greasier rag, a bright green snake created and every house carries a legend of a captain In the oven, something breathing. Rising. Melting. hair. my brother's leg destroyed after detonation; of a neighborhood pool floats up on the heat. from the '70s a rent check or explains anything to one's family. My fear of uniforms is an old habit, comfortable. 960 antitank mines By Py Pi Poem, Michael Dickman, Laura Kasischke, Matthew Zapruder, Natalie Diaz, Matthew Zapruder, Roger Reeves, Matthew Zapruder, Lisa Olstein, Lisa Olstein, Laura Kasischke, Lisa Olstein, Erin Belieu, Brenda Shaughnessy, James Arthur, James Arthur, Brenda Shaughnessy, Valzhyna Mort, Natalie Diaz, Valzhyna Mort, Lisa Olstein, Erin Belieu, Valzhyna Mort, Matthew Zapruder, Sarah Lindsay, Natalie Diaz, Laura Kasischke, James Arthur, Michael Dickman, James Arthur, Natalie Diaz, Chris Abani, Sherwin Bitsui, Laura Kasischke, Matthew Zapruder, Dean Young, Lisa Olstein, Michael Dickman, Valzhyna Mort, Laura Kasischke, Laura Kasischke, Kerry James Evans, Erin Belieu, Matthew Zapruder, Erin Belieu, Chris Abani, Kerry James Evans
in the home. waistless, be there, get it? • Already you're in the air even lightning can go wrong but when the smoke having pressed not blue-veined, but full of flesh, that weren't fenced or watered. a phoenix preening only in the exit wounds, to sip at the lachrymal glands of chaos, floating through the candled dark in shiny black slacks then I wake up. Did you know a Vespa in the second person, want it to pleasuring your feet, You know your own shadow, register key. And yet, how fine it feels, my dreams mostly water. There are bulls between my legs, They stand white votives shivered in red glass on a report card. into the ocean Smoking a cigarette that he would give his life for you. into the sky diamond after then left in the shade to multiply. with a hollow pen, how to wrestle an alligator, some type of old-fashioned candy another ambulance The one called Chukwu? Just one word: God. I've never bothered with the names of flowers, that's the mortal art. * a Vespa in the second person, want it to and without your permission. O dummies dancing reading Heretics banged at the double door. By Pi Py Poetry, Brenda Shaughnessy, Brenda Shaughnessy, Brenda Shaughnessy, Michael Dickman, Dean Young, Dean Young, Matthew Zapruder, Roger Reeves, C.D. Wright, Natalie Diaz, Brenda Shaughnessy, Dean Young, Michael Dickman, Lisa Olstein, Mark Bibbins, Erin Belieu, Michael Dickman, Brenda Shaughnessy, Erin Belieu, Dean Young, Natalie Diaz, Valzhyna Mort, Natalie Diaz, Valzhyna Mort, Michael Dickman, Michael Dickman, Chris Abani, Michael Dickman, Michael Dickman, Laura Kasischke, Lisa Olstein, Laura Kasischke, Natalie Diaz, Chris Abani, Erin Belieu, James Arthur, Michael Dickman, Mark Bibbins, Roger Reeves, C.D. Wright, Natalie Diaz
We said despair Both Or am I alone? Imperceptible that veins blued through it Blue gourds glow and rattle like a two-man band: believe, too. puffballs tenderly bunched in my armpits. all-y, all-y, all come free with exacting coordinates I was never your Intended, whose ruby shoes throb on shelves in closets, bark the tips of its leaves with cracked amber-- are gone now; we never held them to the left of the graveyard, where the trees The throb lingering harmlessly decompose
in Peru 14% Noisier Maybe they used to dead from the one who loves, walk around in the yard not making a plan. waist-high, elbow-deep-- particular I didn't come to know: I'd thank it for making it is quiet is good enough advice. [Move Four more angels to drag through the streets A foot chalking a valley black and bright beneath has approved all your plans, so you For years I could count on waking to plenty, eat another apple but forgot who must sense to sip at the lachrymal glands of chaos, aglow with determination, pursuing of shame dissolving in my throat; Can't matter it's garbage night. The moon agrees, of plastic pop-up targets The fire glowing The final arbitration. But the plain ones are patient, aren't they? And follows itself The foghorns and quickly became symbolic, bound to occur they attempt to pull the survivor from its flood in the grass the bodies believe, too. The first cell felt no call to divide. since Cousin Bobby told her about a comma Love. Hunger. Other alchemies. * were starting to cover the land and someday everyone was a thing of incomparable curvaceous length; today and i am on my knees to love the dark. I love it so much turns into breath Like a sharpshooter who knows to pull the trigger of the space movie we all stood in line on both sides, their mother invited next to the fire, a nursery for new stars. By Pi Py Poetry, Matthew Zapruder, C.D. Wright, Michael Dickman, Michael Dickman, Brenda Shaughnessy, C.D. Wright, Lisa Olstein, Erin Belieu, Mark Bibbins, Matthew Zapruder, Mark Bibbins, Roger Reeves, Roger Reeves, Laura Kasischke, Sarah Lindsay, Natalie Diaz, Matthew Zapruder, Brenda Shaughnessy, Dean Young, Sarah Lindsay, Erin Belieu, Brenda Shaughnessy, Mark Bibbins, Kerry James Evans, Laura Kasischke, Chris Abani, Erin Belieu, Brenda Shaughnessy, Michael Dickman, Sarah Lindsay, Sherwin Bitsui, Natalie Diaz, Brenda Shaughnessy, Sarah Lindsay, Sarah Lindsay, Laura Kasischke, Michael Dickman, Matthew Zapruder, Sarah Lindsay, Michael Dickman, Valzhyna Mort, Lisa Olstein, Brenda Shaughnessy, Lisa Olstein, Matthew Zapruder, Kerry James Evans, Erin Belieu, C.D. Wright