就恋这把土：憔悴了谁的凝望 —微型散文詩

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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


将麦地写到荒芜，谛视季节的青涩与枯黄，那沉浸在故事里的和鸣

沿着风干儿时身影的诗歌，惊醒了独倚老槐的倦心，依稀辨出你摇曳的红裙

墨香虽不是真实的亘古，躲闪到城市之外的暗黄，绝望的麦子丰了谁的收？
Love is the soil


Gaunt who stare
— miniature Prose poetry

The author/HeQiang

"At the foot of the piece of clay, each grabbed a, will hold a bleeding."
                                                    — poet MangKe


Write wheat to barren, scrutinize season the green and yellow, the sounds of the immersed in the story

Along the childhood form of poetry, dried woke on acacia alone tired heart, vaguely discern you flickering red skirt

The ink is not real everlasting, dodge to the outside of the city is dark yellow, desperate wheat feng who charge?




何强
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周末愉快！