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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
我在麦收的季节把自己悠悠喝醉,洇洇自己干瘪的心扉,回眸枯笔文字的戈壁
在虬枝遮眼的老槐下蛰伏,一株野躺在荒芜中遗落的麦穗,岁月早已悄悄埋下伏笔
相同的文字诠释不同的故事,站在充溢着咖啡和音乐的时光尽头,望不见唐诗的虚无
Love is the soil
Holding the tang poetry to stray
— miniature Prose poetry
The author/HeQiang
"At the foot of the piece of clay, each grabbed a, will hold a bleeding."
— poet MangKe
I in the wheat harvest season perched himself drunk, spread and spread his withered heart, looking back at dry text pen of the gobi
Dormant under Lush branches covered eyes of acacia, a wild strains lie in the deserted left heads, the years have the stage quietly
Different interpretations of the same story, stood in full of coffee and music at the end of time, see tang poetry of nothingness
何强
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