就恋这把土：独呓的疲惫 —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




老藤褶皱着越来越瘦的憧憬，那些被故事折叠的记忆，淡了偶遇的红裙

踩着血阳染红的落叶，心中那抹无处惹尘定格的一瞬，在埙声飘去的地方

默数着那一株株麦穗，一缕清风浸染饱胀的涟漪，是谁摇曳下那些树梢的风景

Love is the soil


The exhaustion of exclusive nor
— miniature Prose poetry

The author／HeQiang

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


Old vines fold the dreams of the thinner, the memory of those stories folding, light the casual red skirt

Standing on blood Yang dyed red leaves, in the heart that wipe dust everywhere make frames of moment, where sound two-string fiddle away

Silently count after the grain, a wisp of breeze full bilge ripples and who is under the trees swaying landscape




何强
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