Deng's poems
Deng (Hunan)
"It's not just this home that we are far away from."
Without a poet, I am a stranger.
Leaving Chengdu, I am a wanderer.
The road to Huayang lasts for an afternoon.
Family ties revolve around steaming hot pot.
Conventional languages run with cups and cups at the same time.
Many words are swallowed in the mouth with vegetables.
At midnight, strange lights give off warmth and coolness.
I opened my mind and closed it after a while.
Hometown is also a foreign land? I came back more than I received.
My uncles, aunts, cousins and menstrual cousins.
Besides poetry, besides greetings.
What else can I tell you?
In a taxi that left in a hurry
I silently recited Xu Zhimo's Farewell to Cambridge.
Two drops of tears fell into my arms with boiling heat.
This is the most precious thing I carry with me.
My hometown! We are far away.
Not just this home.
Kuanzhai Lane was once lost.
Kuanzhai Lane is very narrow.
Walk in with the crowd like a narrow path.
Its mouth is a big square.
It can accommodate all corners of the country and the ocean.
The blue slate was polished by the footsteps of black waves.
The man walking in front, Tsing Yi, opens the buckle.
There was an old cloth bag on his shoulder, and two bottles of wine jingled in the plastic bag.
Turn into the doorway next to you and sit up with Baba tea.
This is our second round of wine, and the spicy taste of the first round is still in our mouth.
Have you ever tried serving wine in an iced fruit bowl? Those colorful poems
Once again, I blend in with the crowd like a poet. Look at those.
There are different people with the same purpose, and I want to be recognized.
I once stood at the door of the white night for a long time.
Lost between snacks and white nights
We are here for the same purpose as they are.
But we are not as happy as they are.
For example, we will talk in this narrow alley.
Something deeper and wider
Stone goose
-to Yi Yan.
In the distant mountains.
On the sloping and stable boulder
Draw a lifelike bird.
This is a flying geese.
In another form,
Obsessed with the Heart Sutra
Buddha incense spread in the mountains.
Beyond muyu
The rhythm of stones and wings
Did you sail this stone?
Or the sky.
Falling with you in the distant mountains of my hometown
I want to open the stone
Like opening a door
Listen to the sound of wings paddling.
When I get close to you,
All the scenery has entered the soil.
On the stone.
Full of what you want.
Field of Dreams
sound
I don't know how many times, in my sleep.
Awaken by the fragrance of grapefruit flowers
They are like bundles of elegant veils.
Sometimes it's like a busy swarm of bees.
Sneak in through the half-open window
Then sleep quietly in my room.
I feel the bird on the grapefruit tree turn over.
An earthworm climbed to the ground to take a nap.
In another window near the road.
Leaves jingle or fall gently.
There are always some leaves that get old in spring.
Then the broom sweeps the floor with a uniform rustling sound.
The sky was gradually awakened by these sounds.
The sun reached out and cut a corner of the east.
Then rip it open with a bang.
Some sounds disappeared in the noise.
Some sounds will be echoed at night.
-This group of poems was published in the third issue of Distant Poetry Magazine 20 19.
There is a manuscript fee, express sample publication.
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