When I write in reference to Samuels long poem Gewrichten that “I’m tempted to work out the algorithm, the schema, the form, that has generated this particular joining of words” I don’t say that in this way one will capture the meaning or all of the effect of the poem. It’s just a start, as in reading a sonnet, it’s a start to note the form(at): 14 lines, volta, rhyme &c. — and how this informs the effect and the meaning of the poem.

Samuel — who reads my blog — delivers an explanation of his method in the comments: ” I’ll give you the key clue: *every* line appears twice, once indented and once not indented, although in about a quarter of the cases there´s a minor change in the wording. Half of the poem was written as is, the repetitions were done later largely by chance but with an eye to continuity. And there are 480 lines in total. HTH!”

Hmm, so I count badly. (Hey, it was too hot!). 480 makes more sense.

As to reading speed again: quite quickly I found out that Gewrichten forces one to pause for a second after each line. If one does, the musicality ‘comes out’ — the macrostructure builds… Maybe pausing after a linebreak is normal for a lot of readers of poetry — I always think they are slow readers, spending time with each word. But that’s not my way of reading poetry. I start with reading quick through all the lines — often even reading on at every linebreak, for continuity, for getting the sense of the syntax, the rhythm of the sentence (not the line). That way of reading often helps me to understand poetry (afterwards I will spend more time, re-reading, if I like the poem, of when it keeps escaping me). So I had to force the pause after linebreaks (or the poem forced me) … only in the middle, when some lines can be read together, I could speed up.