He is the author of the poetry collection On the Road (Ningxia People's Publishing House, 2008+00). Two Roads —— Preface to On the Road
Aer (Ningxia)
Shirley's name on the road easily reminds us of Kerouac. Many years ago, Kerouac swept China with his On the Road. Those fans have now become the backbone of society. It was an era of poetry imitation. Those poems that appeared in Chinese have become classics today, but unlike the classics in our textbooks, those classics are still among the people, or, as many people say, "there are few poems."
Nowadays, great material and desire are sweeping through what we once had and what we will have. Sherry's poem is like a bottle opener. His poems try to express what a poet sees. These things made him lament. He used language to enter the interior of the city, and he had the courage to put phenomena and truth into poetry. These images with traces of life shed secular desires in his poems, and they rose and became visual.
I don't want to quote Kitty Tse's poems to explain how I feel when I read them. I just want to say that when sensitivity is the initial breath of poetry, Kitty Tse's heart has started another March. This is not a pioneer, nor is it technology. Poetry is actually the poet's spiritual progress. This March, Xie Rui's poem turned to On the Road. This song "On the Road" is not a bohemian carnival, nor does it vent its heart like many poets. However, Kitty Tse is still on his way. I just felt his direction from his poems. This is a direction similar to "compassion". This direction is painful and free, but it is dangerous. But the road has already started, so we can only continue.
Due to the integration of the Internet, China's contemporary poetry has entered the public's field of vision. In China, a country with a tradition of poetry culture, blog has become the best form for literary lovers who have a certain level of word processing and are keen on self-expression. Many poets also like to "publish" their poems through blogs. Yes, nowadays, it seems easier and easier to write poems. Poetry here seems to be no longer the right of the minority, but has begun to "prosper" and "so many poets". In an article, I once talked about this phenomenon with joy. However, with the simplification of the operation of poetry, poetry is being produced by many people one by one, like vernacular, like products, but the spiritual power of poetry has retreated. So many poems, what can carry?
In Kitty Tse's poems, I don't have such worries. As an influential poet on the Internet, Kitty Tse's poems get rid of the drooling and similarity of online poems and are better in text. From narration to the choice of poetic images, they are easy and have a good grasp of rhythm. What interests me most is the sharpness of Kitty Tse's poems. He put the sharp axe of language on the real scene, sensitive, sad, angry and uneasy, and laboriously cut down the world we have neglected for a long time, our numbness and recognition. Along the way, Kitty Tse's poems along the way. In my reading experience, it is like a flame dancing and singing, and it is bright and dazzling under the city sky.
Xie Rui's poems are rare among Ningxia poets. He abandoned the idiom of "heaven, earth, river, village ……" that Ningxia poets were accustomed to, extended his brushwork to concrete real life, relentlessly dispelled the poetic theme puzzled by concrete villages and cities, and completed an upward spiritual journey from a special perspective. This course is valuable and lyrical. When poetry began to reach lyricism, what I want to say is that when poetry really entered such lyricism, the door had already opened.
Many poets choose the scenery on their own, but the temperament of Kitty Tse's poems, in my opinion, is just like what Frost said: There are two roads in a forest, and I chose the one with few people …
This is a sequence. Brother is on his way.
In my heart
Grass grows in an inconspicuous place.
This does not affect
Those seasonal desires
Follow the lost wind.
Run blindly
self-portrait
I drew a shadow on the ground.
Give him a running posture.
I've followed him for years.
Watch him grow up.
How to be in a crowded city
With grass
Love each other. During this period
The wind quietly took something away.
While others
Be left behind
Untitled
You look at my fate.
Tampered again and again
Watching me fall into this world's past
Torture is getting older.
Without a word, until today.
I still can't be in my dream.
Sleep, not in other people's dreams.
be awake
I'm still the same as when you saw me before.
Live brilliantly, but you can't keep happiness in your heart.
I'm telling you, I'm afraid that when I say it,
It's like you disappeared, disappeared without a trace.
Please look at me the way you used to look at me.
The best news you can get.
No news from me.
the final shot
On this day, the blackboard and chalk head
Already in the pure light
Make a loud noise.
Oppressed throat and tongue
I just finished the agitation of another era.
Who cut off their bodies?
These dense green forests
It constitutes and hides a grand lyric.
Like a scene coming in a hurry
It's too late.
Yes, we all saw it.
Shades and roads are unreliable.
The road under their feet has never been traversed.
Truth exists in the glass of God.
Bless those who can eat enough.
Wandering in the land controlled by people. therefore
If you are a brother, please let go of drinking tonight.
If you are a woman, please sing softly tonight.
Charge this rusty chair.
Even if there is only a little strength left.
the final shot
Give the sheep a chance to live in flashbacks.
Drifting air gathered again.
The lamb's breathing is getting heavier and heavier.
It began to flutter and gasp.
The knife is pulled back from the neck and the blood flows back into the cavity.
The initial binding is unfolded in a circular shape.
It struggled to its feet and ran after the man with the knife.
Just like being chased at first, you can't outrun him.
The man withdrew from the sheepfold and the sheepfold returned to his mother.
The expression of despair returned to calm.
They stood together, breathing quietly.
Look back, the man didn't take the knife.
Standing outside the sheepfold
Smile and watch them put a pile of grass
The more you eat, the richer you will be.
The construction site makes noise at midnight.
Don't say tree-lined, don't say the part covered by leaves.
Masks vary from person to person. We only said July.
Let's just say the expressions of smeared flowers this season.
Only the parts outside the construction site
There are buses, mud and pedestrian streets.
How prosperous and elegant.
Long hair floated along the street. They drink beer and eat a bunch of incense.
Someone sang: Sister, my clothes are torn, and the building I built is capped.
Someone shouted: whoever walks on the road is a happy person.
My position does not belong to dawn or village.
This summer, the rain drifted across my dream.
In some parts of hardrain, some crops died of hunger and thirst.
My shed leaks and the eaves in the village are cracked.
I was in tears, so I was stung by the light refracted by the earth.
How dark the night is, how tired the shadow is, how dark the sky is.
Yes, sister, my clothes are torn, and the building I built is capped.
Yes, sister, the building I built was capped and my clothes were torn.