Poem Shards

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🌝 
🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌙 🌚 🌛 🌜 🌝. 🚤 🚥



  Billy Perilli, 
 writer of all
 of the things 
 on this blog.
🌜🌜🌜🌝🌛🌛🌛