There’s measurement and division; there’s self-similarity and syllabic interval.
There are two crucial elements that, at this point, it’s imperative for us to define if we’re going to continue to write poems. The first is the syllable, which is a simple unit; the syllable is unitary, a simple mathematical unit. But the second element is the echo. The echo is relational, something that exists only as a derivative of the unitary syllable. The echo is a mist, a notable participation in Likeness across two or more of these units, separated by a reasonable spatial distance, connected temporally via speech.
The echoes, in aggregate, become a measurement of self-similarity.
The line or block of text is composed of syllables and the echoes are the measurements of likeness between these fundamental elements. This will be the case for either in an individual line or a block of text that’s then either left as a block or then diced up into set intervals after the fact.
The canto itself is a self-similar line, and the (epic) poem is a self-similar wave, both of which come into being via measurement.
These blocks of text could be called macrotones in a sense, and by that I mean they have a measured quotient of self-similarity (which expresses itself via sound) that defines the unit, that can’t be divided without changing essentially. A macrotone of .754 even if divided equally into two will change essentially, it will no longer be .754. Whereas a microtone takes a tone and divides it - a macrotone is an aggregation of sound.
Echoes don’t tether the poet to ideas like end-rhymes, or stress patterns, or syllabic exactness. One of the best examples of self-similarity won’t be found in Ashbery or Whitman or Ginsberg or Pound. It’s the last line of the first verse of Big Pun’s “Twinz.”
Dead in the middle of Little Italy little did we knowthat we riddled some middleman who didn't do diddily[D]ead [i]n the m[i][d]dle of [L][i]ttle [I]t[a][l][y] [l][i]ttle [d][i]d we knowthat we r[i][d]dled some [m][i][d]dle[m]an who [d][i][d]n't [d]o [d][i][d]d[i][l][y]30:31 .968
The macrotone .968. There are no fixed syllables per line here, and there’s no fixed pattern of stressed syllables, and there’s no end-rhyme, because although “Italy” and “diddily” might technically rhyme, in the incessant referencing back upon itself of the line, this outright rhyme is diluted by various the D’s, soft I’s, and L’s that richochet violently across the line, engaging in fraction portions of alliteration and assonance, the echoing.
But this is an extreme example, as you probably wouldn’t write an extended poem with this type of extremity sustaining itself, because the language itself would be so limited the content would become insipid. Split the tone into two and it changes essentially.
Line 1[D]ead [i]n the m[i][d]dle of [L][i]ttle [I]t[a][l][y] [l][i]ttle [d][i]d we know14:16 .875
Line 2that we r[i][d]dled some [m][i][d]dle[m]an who [d][i][d]n't [d]o [d][i][d]d[i][l][y]15:15 1.00
Even in this excessively lyrical example, if we split Pun’s macrotone equally into two, the value changes essentially, from .968 into .875 and 1.00. This concludes this section on self-similarity in the extended line.