palindrone

"The first bowl moistens my lips and throat; The second bowl breaks my loneliness; The third bowl searches my barren entrails but to find therein some five thousand scrolls; The fourth bowl brings out light perspiration, and so troubling affairs in my life all disperse through my pores; The fifth bowl cleanses my whole body; The six bowl opens up a channel to reach the immortals; The seventh bowl I dare not drink, or I would seem to have wings and take flight to paradise in a light breeze." --Lu Tong

How the future will judge us.

"Paper Loves Ink

Ravens tell poets,
'Paper loves ink,'
(while ruffling feathers)
'like words whisper secrets.'
Stories unravel
thread by thread.
So spills ink, into
magic,
into ink spills.
'So, thread by thread,
unravel stories.'
Secrets whisper words,
like feathers
ruffling, while,
'Ink loves paper.'
Poets tell ravens."

Penelope Connor

"Every poem’s a failed palindrome. --Graham Foust

San Fransokyo.

"9 to 5

Dream. Wake up. Pour cream in patterns in coffee.
Dream. Wake up. Pour cream in patterns in coffee.
Burn your tongue on another sip.
Burn your tongue on another sip.
Wake up in coffee, in cream. Burn another sip.
Pour patterns on your tongue. Dream.

Drive to work two miles over the speed limit.
Drive to work two miles over the speed limit.
Don’t notice the poppies on the side of the road.
Don’t notice the poppies on the side of the road.
The poppies on the side of the road
don’t notice the speed limit. Drive over two miles to work.

Watch the clock on the wall. It ticks a slow minute.
Watch the clock on the wall. It ticks a slow minute.
Avoid the smiling woman in a blue dress with buttons.
Avoid the smiling woman in a blue dress with buttons.
Watch the wall, the clock; the woman in a dress with buttons.
A slow, blue minute ticks on, smiling. Avoid it

with patterns on the cream wall. Work
two miles over the speed limit. Pour a minute
in coffee. Watch it. Avoid another sip.
Dream in blue buttons on a dress. Drive into
the slow poppies on the side of the road, the woman.
Notice your tongue ticks, smiling. Burn the clock. Don’t wake up."

Margie Fuston

Interesting cli-fi list i never heard of.

"Moth Ash

Too sere, moths
Ah! To meld, arcing
In ebony align

I wish to melt
‘Til, little moths,
I wing, I lay

No...
Benign, I cradle moth ash to
Mere soot"

Steven Fraser