Poem Shards just who reads, who writes these poems? off a mountain road the poet roams but only in a poem. Realizing that the empty is empty and not needing anything there. just who shows up and for what? I'm lonely or am alone or what does it matter? driving off towards the nothing walking along the nowhere path up high sure, it's a pretty view but seen it, done it, jaded, back to the air port he flew his fantasy of happy vacation was through.
The deep snow.The deep snow. She doesn't know how deep. She didn't think about it. Depth of snow no one know in rills and hollows where you shouldn't go when the storm is fierce and the night is cold even you shouldn't be so bold. poem is from 2012 short story titled Blizzard Baby The morning light is hued in cold awareness. Warming in the sun the bunny explores the snow covered lawn. The tracks melt by mid morning. Bunny doesn't know what the song means, anyway. This giant bubble that we call awareness? How could it have been formed? Seemingly hollow, it's filled up with you reading this and wondering where does this idle poet get his idle hours to spew out this bubble web of hollowness? 🚦 🚧 🚨 🚩 🚪 🚫 🚬 🚭 🚮 🚯 🚰 🚱 🚲 🌛 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥 sometimes there is beauty within the fragments . . . 🌜🌜🌜🌝🌛🌛🌛 Sprongg . . . onng . . . ongg ga Her tired morning seems more like poetry than anything you can find on a blog. Bark Bark. Bark Bark. Tree Bark Bark. Bark Bark. Dog 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥 Woof and woe🌝 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥 Space Ship snowman floats off towards Billy Perilli, writer of all of the things on this blog. 🌜🌜🌜🌝🌛🌛🌛
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