outland poetry
anthology 诗选
Eric Lindener
Windows give birth to the gap Windows give birth to the gap Toward the table here Immediately Rupture The table is not in the window And to stand beside me Fall tablecloth To the foot of the table The view from the window Bent arm's length Kink in the elbow of a long and thin Drawer: bread crumbs, paper clips Steady straight to the table, so that the windows open Cardboard wedge The box on the table walk The floor is like a leg. -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------ Your lips with blood Your lips with blood But the wind still whistled Metro is still under the table Scroll So drop your head Even the gentle words Your ears are Explosive Your hair loose in the On the tablecloth Photo with your eyes still Measurement of light Dust in the air shuttle Dust down to you Too small, not suitable for the table Too small, not suitable for wind. -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------ To cold 1 She last saw him in place. (Askance glance Opposite traffic.) Right foot side suitcase. Arm of the jacket. He said: her hand in here? He sat upright in the boxes. One hand resting on her stomach, Resting on one hand The sun above the wheels turning. She will wipe saliva from his lips. She hit out of his suit from the sun. 2 When the knee has a cigarette filter tip Retained in the opening cigarette box, She will hand _insert_ed into the V-neck sweater. Supraclavicular fingertips. Pin on the suit. (Spotlight of milk.) Fine lines and socks. Thumb under the edge of brooch. Parry made yawn hand rubbing hidden smile. Nothing ever escaped her. No one has ever escaped her. There is no pattern of wiping a dish towel. A bread without an oven. 3 In such boat trip, I found this delightful birds And she said on the crossbar Place by hand to cover graffiti. Clothes surrounded her neck. Makeup on yesterday. A gust of wind revealed her ear lobe. Rarely with his mouth The smell of the ship berth. Birds wore frames ticking. -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------ Poetry Sky man standing under the tree Whispered in his eyes the rain flow All the clouds are made of marble All the leaves have different names. Unwilling to yield to this sneaky Eternal, is still capable of resistance. Once hidden beauty Bathroom decor bleeding. Him from the pond over the years, with soft, such as The voice of wool back his words. Before bending the branches in the melody Good access can inhibit his strength. -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------ When I leave my language the word is no longer When I leave my language the word is no longer Or making them weak voice, sound, which Children are cut Her hair spread out in front Then know More rare ah And then stopped to go into a hand.
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