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文/何强
“脚下的那片泥土,每抓起一把,都一定会攥出血来。”
-- 诗人芒克
在旧居干渴的古巷上空,一粒种子尚在土里喘息,我成为一个残缺不全的病句
住在一个夹缝里,倾听根系的呻吟,作为一种色调的衬托,诗情在没有痛感之中淤积
现在的乡村,到处弥漫着一种令人想入非非的暧昧,当蛙鸣在质疑麦茬腐烂的失衡
Love is the soil
Parched pragmatically
— miniature Prose poetry
The author/HeQiang
"At the foot of the piece of clay, each grabbed a, will hold a bleeding."
— poet MangKe
Over the ancient lane in the former residence of thirst, a seed in the soil for breath, I became a mutilated pragmatically
Lived in a niche, listen to the root of groan, as a kind of tonal foil, sedimentation of poetry without pain
Villages now, everywhere filled with a kind of is suggestive of ambiguity, when the frogs in question stubble rotten imbalances
何强
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