Object poetry modern poetry

"Table and Bench"

They look like they fit together

They are just right in height, fat and thin

One in front of the other and one in front of the other.

Measure a few inches of distance between each other

Just enough to accommodate, a kind of beauty

A space with sharp edges and corners

But it outlines Out of a soft body

A lonely person

Or a doubtful person

got into this warm gap

< p>I don’t want to come out again

After a while, I fell asleep

Her hands slipped into his hair

Her legs were entangled His waist

She was tired and began to rest

And this set of tables and chairs began to make her happy.

"Horizontal and vertical strokes on the title page"

On the title page of a book

A few light ink stains were stained

People who understand take it over and look at it

This abstract composition

Tell me, that is someone’s name

Those who don’t understand haven’t understood it yet. As soon as the book was opened

a fire was lit

and the stories and punctuation on each page were incinerated into ellipses...

< p> Logic comes out on top again and again

The sacrifices of philosophy are piled in the corners

But they never really win

At least, I have spots too

However, am I still good?

Those who understand gently kiss my scars

Tell me that this is my unique beauty

Those who don’t understand do not open my body< /p>

Don’t dare to light a fire

Burn me into a book

A book with stains on the title page

"Rock and Roll" < /p>

Not in front of me

Competing to see who has the louder voice

Whose tongue is sharp

Whose lips are sharp

I put on a rock album

Let it radiate the noise of acute intoxication

In tearing and screaming

It makes the listener’s eardrums and Heart and liver

Blast into powder

And artistic ashes

Spread a handful on the sea

As the end of life The journey

Let it summon demons

Demons and ghosts

Wait until then

You witch doctors and goddesses

We cowards and scumbags

We all have to retreat

"Triangle"

His fingers are very long

But his eyebrows are short

The elbow joint is like a dagger

It confirms all the predictions about love

It will not end well

He painted my wall Make it white

Make my movie silent

Trim one of my songs into stiff notes

And Those repeated dance steps

used to mourn for oneself

He is half of the window shape

Paired with the gossip of autumn

< p> Instigating the summer to add insult to injury

He is three intertwined straight lines

Representing lies, comfort, and insomnia respectively

He makes the originally complete sky

Divided into many opaque color blocks

This side is sweet orange-red

That side is bitter sea blue

He is still a quack doctor

p>

Treating patients who long for death

Holding a joking mirror

Reflecting the years I was buried with

Maybe I am Love him

If love was a language

He is a triangle

It’s a pity

I don’t understand geometry