Moby Dick (Palindrome-Sonnet, Petrarchan)

‘Damn word!’ I say. A sign: O, lost, same lap.
We devil, stress. A pagan, we help. Mates!
Dash sin. I, mid, deliver deeps it fates.
We pale, eke vanes I ran. My host: ‘bed-trap’.
Dab—knit, per crafts, a madness. Algae, snap!
We, fleer, sail, as moody alba hates.
Page, notify a pseudo-Maori: ‘Crates!’
Set arc: I roam—O, dues pay. Fit one gap.
Set, Ahab, lay doom’s alias. ‘Reel few!’
Pan sea-glass. End a mast, far crept. Ink bad.
Part debt. So, hymn, arise—nave, keel a pew.
Set aft, I speed, reviled; diminish, sad.
            Set, ample, hewn, a gap asserts live dew.
            ‘Pale mast, so long!’ I say, as I drown, mad…

Anthony Etherin is a UK-based writer of experimental poetry, prose, and music. His poems have appeared online in The Account, FIVE:2:ONE, and Pale Ghosts Magazine, and he has had leaflets or chapbooks published by No Press, Spacecraft Press, Penteract Press and The Blasted Tree. Find him on Twitter, @Anthony_Etherin, and via his website:

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