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
地址：安徽省合肥市亳州路畅园新村72栋405室
邮编：230031
QQ: 743173859
邮箱：hqyhyh@163.com
手机：13856059543
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发表于 2013-12-20 07:42
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发表于 2013-12-20 08:08
