就恋这把土：夜晚的诗，在孤独中失眠—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




拾掇过很多次槐花，谁在无边旷野将我捡拾，正在与古槐对话

老瓦碎砾, 承载了诗话无法真正触摸到的原始，独醒晴耕雨读的野史  

试图解读石榴裙红的牵手，庄稼还在睡梦中，为了寻觅那段深藏在麦地里永不枯萎的童年记忆
Love is the soil


Night, sleep in the loneliness
— miniature Prose poetry

author/He Qiang

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


Who picks up too many times, sophora japonica, in the boundless wilderness will I pick up, is ancient and dialogue

Waldners debris, carrying the zhen can not touch the real original, alone awake fine till the rain reading of unofficial history

Try to unscramble feet red hand, crops still in his sleep, in order to find the childhood memory hidden deep in the wheat will never wither


何强
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