What modern poems are there, preferably China's?

● Moonlight

Moonlight grows like mushrooms.

Round and round. Braving the heat

One sentence impressed me deeply. Loneliness. The motorcycle sped away.

Leftover drinks, messy fertilizers and mushrooms grow faster.

Five people leave two. A black earthworm in my heart

The black tail is getting into the mud.

We listened to the roar of the motor and gradually lowered the volume.

The tail of the black earthworm gradually shrinks.

And mushrooms, from the gap between our shadows

Long clouds, braving the white heat.

We woke up from something strange.

Wear the wrong shoes, one big and one small.

Someone walked into the alley.

This alley looks like a story without an end.

I was startled. I put on the wrong shoes.

On the thick stone, the flowers and leaves are staggered.

The breakfast cart was pushed back, and the empty dining car was bitten by a bug in the light.

Leave jagged marks

I'm on my way. People who walk into alleys

Go in the opposite direction to me.

She doesn't know me.

A few years later, I stood in the alley and shouted

Shoes are one big and one small. The wet shadow on the ground should make a sound.

She ran towards me.

● Scene.

October. A scrawled lake

A coin. I throw it again and again.

Light. Fate.

The birds were separated in the dark waterline.

Floating clouds. More boats, faster speed.

Pick me up, afternoon after afternoon.

The sun. Anxious cigarette butts went out in the western hills.

The poet's depression

Fate. A coin was suddenly pinned down by a big hand.

After a heavy breath, the rain rolled in the mud.

● Monks

We are not knocking on wooden fish, we are outside Dushan Temple.

The chirping of partridges

Singing in the dark, heading in different directions

When we count, we know how many partridges there are.

Partridges in the dark can't understand us. They are crying.

Straight on Till Morning

Straight on Till Morning

Black chirp, like a string of beads in our hands, is counted by our cycles.

Gradually turn white

● The last romance

A caterpillar with beautiful patterns.

This music is full of energy.

I'm going to cut open its belly

Suck it

I'm locked in the house.

It is dark in winter.

A caterpillar with beautiful patterns.

Your lips

This music is full of energy.

● Good night.

Snow-white manuscript paper and some oranges.

The light is just right.

The desktop is quieter than the dial. The reflection of oranges

Climb on my face

Warm feeling

Oranges turn my face.

You can't see. Darkness lurks outside the window.

I turn on the light, the shadow of the orange.

It's getting weaker.

What I want to express. White manuscript paper

You can't guess.

The dial is unstable. It's getting weaker, my orange.

You can't sleep.

Oranges gradually disappear.

Oranges have disappeared.

● Black raindrops

When and where?

You remember me.

Dark clouds were driven to the front like a group of black sheep.

Strong breathing. The smell of the ram fell to the ground.

Black raindrops.

When and where?

You remember me.

You are reading a letter.

The black sheep are falling. The earth is empty. The night sky is long.

Dense raindrops.

You are reading a letter. Your sadness.

A strong smell, the smell of a ram.

You read line by line.

You remember me.

Countless raindrops.

You remember me.

When and where?

● The postal address is unknown.

He is going to the north.

She's coming to the south.

Holding oranges and oranges.

Oranges and oranges

Two postmarks, each bitter.

They were wrapped in a layer of green skin.

Such as mail to be sent.

It's snowing heavily/thickly/thickly and quickly.

They stuck their heads out of the green husk.

What you see.

The south is not the south.

The north is not the north.

● Holidays

When I opened the drawer,

I won't go to see two slender fish.

I'm in the kitchen.

Touch that rusty kitchen knife.

I won't use it to open a white letter.

When I eat fish, I say "I love you"

This means "maybe" or "no"

The fishbone is very white, and there are many slender letters hidden in it.

When I open the fish's body, its white drawer

Say "I love you"

I'm depressed. The kitchen knife is rusty, too.

I'm not going to the kitchen.

I said, "I love you."

Touch the ribs

Like fish bones, there used to be many slender letters hidden inside.

● Close relationship.

The sparrow flew away like a leaf of wood.

I can't fly all over my body. It's dark.

A dry space.

Their claws caught me.

Their beaks excite me. hungry

Similar expressions, their little eyes.

turn

Day after day

It's like a black clockwork winding up inside.

Silence. Like sound.

Walking in four fields

You can definitely see the footprints of sparrows on rainy days.

Like the leftover food at dusk.

Fresh breath. At this moment,

I'm coming.

Some accidentally stay on the calm lake.

Their tails suddenly stood on the table one after another.

Elegant toothpick

wait for

Be taken away by everyone

The bell rang and the dark crowd dispersed.

I am grateful for falling to the ground.

The party is over.

Low bird

The bird suddenly jumped out of the tree.

Hover over another tree.

Their silent chirping is like porcelain, crisp and thin.

Scrape the blue from the sky.

They are black whirlpools.

In one afternoon, the whirlpool was made countless times.

On my head.

Like relatives.

Death and life, the whirlpool of days

Moving over my head, their chirping

Scrape the blue from the sky.

And I didn't move, and neither did I.

A small piece of cyan was scraped off.

● Aries

Aries is not only found on the plateau.

Aries is not only found in the north.

Sheep crossing mountains and mountains and sheep drinking water

My cabin is in the body of Aries.

The wind is like a song, flying sand and stones

The north is like an ancient saxophone bend and golden memories.

I have been to the north in my last life.

I have occupied the south of Aries in my life.

The milk of the white sheep, the moonlight of the north and south.

Slim and fresh, like grass growing wildly on the roadside.

It feeds me and covers me.

At the top of the mountain, at the bottom of the valley, I hold the white sheep.

I have an old saxophone.

Aries in the moonlight, north and south

● Stone tablet

Who was I before I died?

Who is it after I die?

Layers of rocks and layers of trees

This black stone tablet

Like my heavy breathing on the earth.

I'm tired of breathing.

After death, there is not a word on this tablet.

No attachment, no date of birth, no surname.

This street used to be empty.

Quail sticks out its little paws.

Three slender, powerful, bloodshot chirps

Grab me.

The depression of its left black wing.

A hotel

I once drank three or two glasses of wine here.

Drunk seven times

A woman helped me come back.

I sleep late.

On her black wings

Until the pub disappears

Until I stand here alone

Above the head is the furry body of quail.

hibernation

I sleep in the bed.

My bed is like a frozen beast.

I felt its hair.

I touched its front teeth.

Big, shiny front teeth

I opened my eyes wide.

Be careful that it wakes up.

● Black crickets

There are three black crickets in my room.

Black crickets use tiny yarns.

Rotate their black.

They wake up from sleep without clothes or food.

They are left on the clock plate.

I wore their yarn and went in and out of the room.

● earthly life

In my dream

There is a deep well.

Some people draw water, others have a rest.

The moonlight fell and fell in the well.

hydromel

Or toxic water.

I haven't drunk it.

This well has always been in my dream.

Deep, deep.

I am either a bucket or moonlight.

cannot reach

● Crisis

From the garden

Slowly

The clouds are like white smoke, but they have not dispersed.

The bird made a strange cry.

be beset with a crisis

I'm not sure what kind of crisis this is.

What kind of date, fusion path and pomegranate?

Torture me

Terrible and fragrant silence

I opened my mouth wide.

A whole pomegranate was stuffed in.

I'm nervous.

Three inches below my throat, someone called me, someone cried, and someone carved words on it.

And pomegranate, which may explode at any time.

● Before the storm

Blue water on the table

Piaolai cups and plates

An ant is like a black shark.

Raise your head.

Its hunger sends out the darkness of its internal organs

I sat in the dark.

I play by myself.

My feet are knives.

My hand is a fork.

I don't know where to start in my body.

And calm water.

No waves.

Black sharks swim with their heads up.

I suddenly felt that my pain at the moment began with its great silence.

● Give it to mom.

I am a lonely lamb.

I left my master.

I eat neighbors' grass and strangers' grass.

I'm lost.

Eat grass that doesn't belong to anyone.

All kinds of grass, dirty grass in the dark

One day,

It wasn't my master who tied me to the chopping board, it was someone else.

They eat my meat.

Clean meat

My master prayed bitterly for me.

Silver ring snake in liquor bottle

In the past, my grandfather often put a bottle of white wine on his desk.

Homemade white wine, very strong.

Like the story he told.

The core of that story is a silver ring snake.

One part is white and the other part is black.

Edema, like soaking for centuries.

I dare not drink this wine.

I'm afraid the snake will bite me.

Actually, after my grandfather died.

I'm already in the belly of that silver ring snake.

Drunk night

It was dark.

● Packaging

This is a commercial times.

In the city.

Cosmetic packaging skin

Skin filling muscle

Muscle-filled bone

Bone packing salt

Salt packaging is salty.

This homesick and unsalable age

salty

Wrap the extra tears on my face.

● Monks

Put incense on the bright head.

Poke nine times

Nine black spots

The big bell rang nine times.

Outside the temple

The wife and children sobbed.

In the temple

Some people repent and lead an honest and clean life, and the full moon is like a futon.

Wait for it to be in place.

● Epitaph

Pomegranate burst and orange fell to the ground.

Silence under an ancient tree is like a surname on a stone tablet.

The immortal color of rocks.

The white muscles of the river

What I love.

After I died before I was born

The territory of 8000 miles is just a ruin under the moon.

● piety

I counted the stars when I was a child.

Big black sheep and white sheep

This is a question, like what.

Always want to know how many

And the darkest sheep and the whitest sheep.

It's on the Kunming-Shanghai line.

In the north of Guizhou, among piles of black sheep and white sheep, I saw a man shearing wool.

When he herded sheep every night.

He can count his black sheep and white sheep, but he is not as pious as me.

Just like at this moment, it is already dark, and someone is shearing wool on the cloud.

Cut and count.

I walked by the lake, counting the wool and thinking about the person I love.

The wool fell all over the body and the body began to become heavy.

I've always been religious.

● Moon

The moon will always be used up.

Or abandoned by the times, like the one in my cupboard.

Gan Long Bao Tong

Cut a heart from the middle and hang it on the key chain.

Become a souvenir

This has nothing to do with you anymore.

Maybe one day, when it is broken, it will still make me

Think about your cough when you are sick, but

No other memories.

2006/ 10/07 (16th day of the eighth lunar month)

● Light of Lotus

More silent than insects and planetesimals, they

All rotten in the lake, brown and black mud is lotus leaf.

Lotus has long withered and become a childhood lantern.

Walking under the transparent skin, the light has worn me away.

The light is also silent.

But it doesn't rot, just like people.

Every night, on my bones.

Go straight down.

Sharpen a sharp knife

● Farming

I don't know me.

I am poorer than the fields in my hometown.

More barren

I want to open mine.

My poem

Plow me open

It's like a shovel plowing a dark land.

● Disease

Honeysuckle, mint, licorice or June cream

This is just a

herbal medicine

It can cure colds.

I feel blue and tired.

My forehead is hot and I'm sweating.

This is a symptom of a cold.

I miss you.

I need

What kind of herbs?

● In the morning

In the morning, the sun rises bit by bit

get up

I dress in front of the sun.

I saw the sun bit by bit.

get up

overall process

It's like I'm going from bottom to top.

Button up

● Grave

I drove past a slope.

Many graves

One by one.

It's like an invisible hand holding another invisible hand.

tombstone

It could be their tongues.

But you can't talk.

They are quiet.

I'm quiet, too

Death is like a sudden bird.

Fall in my heart

● Results

A male butterfly mates with a female butterfly.

Day and night copulation

Rain and flowers mate.

Reality and memory copulation

They all had children.

A dark bastard:

lonely

Live like this.

The wild peaches in my hometown are hard and astringent. I used to climb trees when I was young. My memory is also a wild peach. My grandmother always advises me not to play this dangerous game. You can knock down many wild peaches with a bamboo pole. I ignored it. I climbed the tree and fell. I climbed up the tree and fell down again. I am a hard and astringent wild peach. Now, I have many rules. I tapped my memory with a bamboo pole of words. One wild peach after another is hard and astringent. My tears are also wild peaches. I think of this bamboo pole knocking, as if I have never tasted wild peaches.

● Mother

childhood

I crouched under that bitter tree.

The hen approached me noisily like her mother.

I was unaware of the danger.

My cricket was pecked by it at once.

It's like my report card was taken away by my mother at once.

So I gave it a good kick

But what can I do with my mother?

She is my mother.

I was severely punished by her.

Just like I taught the hen a lesson.

Just like a hen lecturing a cricket.

● The story on the dial

There are twelve black spots on the dial.

Still like twelve ants.

A calf trembles in summer.

I don't talk, squatting on the dial.

Light light blue and Charles Simic

At this time, I took advantage of the gap in the sun.

Into my body.

They shook hands and talked intimately.

They are in my body, like a deep wound.

Like two small shadows

Just like on the dial

Two ants have escaped.

I felt it when they walked.

Friction between objects, the sound of friction

It got bigger and bigger until it struck the dial.

Ten other unknown ants

Until I can't hear anything outside my body

Until I fell off the dial

Cry silently

2006/05/03

● Missing.

A tree supports the loneliness of the earth.

In the huge nest, birds hatch at night.

Tears are like poetry.

People who study don't know where to go.

He thought of his hometown, the burdock in front of the fence.

Blooming flowers, like his girl.

Moonlight, flowing through the pine forest

Like a long letter he is going to write.