The sky
is actually a piece of land, sometimes black
sometimes white, sometimes blue
on which some never-before-seen fairies
are hard at work, sowing seeds and hoeing grass
At night, the faraway branches
blossom into starry flowers
and bear moonlike fruits
and shake their heads and sing very fragrant songs.
And the fruits of the moon
And they shake their heads and sing fragrant songs
Paper
A piece of paper
is a tree that has been flattened
You and I
have carved its body with a knife or a pen
And now
it feels as if a piece of paper
is a man who has been flattened
and who has been flattened.
A person who has been flattened
Tried to get back up all his life
But didn't succeed
Some left their last words, some went to the crematorium before they could say a word
Yesterday repeats itself
In the morning, I passed by Dongchen Plaza
And the flamboyant old ladies
Were dancing again.
The wind is still blowing from east to west
The river is still flowing from north to south
The weeping willow by the river
Still tilts its neck as if it were destined to be
Suddenly, I realized
I've been living in some kind of a bondage
Just like that dry butterfly
I haven't been able to get out of the cocoon of yesterday.
I haven't been able to pull myself out of yesterday's cocoon
New Year's Eve
Today is the 23rd day of the Lunar New Year
It's going to be the Chinese New Year in a few days
Erdan Zi drove a brand new Mercedes Benz back from Hainan
The three boys brought a bundle of dark rolls back from Hebei
The one I haven't seen for years, Wu Nizi, is the one I want to see. The five sons, whom I hadn't seen for years
also appeared at the entrance of the village with their two sons
It was as if a tree had suddenly sprouted
There were more people on the street, and more laughter
Some people were selling fireworks by the side of the road
Some people were hanging lanterns in front of their doors
The old beggar with a disheveled head
hid in a corner to catch lice
The sunlight was like a bed, and the sunshine was like a bed, and the sunlight was like a bed. >
The sunlight wrapped around his
*** upper body
Feedback Yangyang Town
We talked about Feedback Yang Middle School
Talking about Culture Road
Talking about the long-gone Sanyi Restaurant
We used to go there to drink
one bottle of wine at a time
. When we got drunk
we pissed on the screaming train
The owner of the restaurant wore glasses
and always gave us two bucks when we paid the bill
His old lady, who was a man of few words
sat on a bench all day long
and used rusty scissors to cut the living pouting chubs
with a clicking sound
But when we missed our chance, we were not sure if we were going to get it right.
I've written more than once about the scent of gardenias and the whiteness
of those big dreams
of loneliness and dizziness
which have also, at one time or another It's been my despair
Yes, if I had some more April and vertigo
I could have made her whiter
and more fragrant
In the winter
A yearly house of snow
Worthy only of renting to a noble soul
I died in winter's arms
And the spring woke up in my skull
Sail
Open up that blue
Put your tenacity in it
Let the gossamer ribbons of thought
Hang like sails from the mast of life
You never know how many shifting white clouds there are in the sky
Just as you never know how many busy beings there are under the sky
Drawer paper
Anybody I can pull out my guts
even that
snot-faced urchin
when the last one floats softly
out of my chest
People, you've sown emptiness
and I've got plenty
of sunshine
bang bang bang, a pink bird
and I've got a pink bird
that's a pink bird
that's a pink bird
that's a pink bird
that's a pink bird
that's a pink bird
that's a pink bird. bird
pecks through the shell of the old year
Looking east, looking west. In its eyes
How fresh is the world
How fresh is the day made of love
She jumps and chirps happily
Her happiness is as light as the wind
Just enough to wake up a branch of plum blossoms
She puts the most beautiful blessing
Hanging out of my window
She flies to your blue sky on fluttering wings. The night in the countryside
There are always a few stars in the sky
Like the tobacco pots in the hands of our fathers
Some topics
Are old as pumpkins
But they are washed by laughter
As if you were a loach that couldn't be caught
You are the one who is in the crowd. You've been in and out of the crowd
and you've been out of your childhood.