[Winter Picks Up Six Lines]

Stranger, what time are you talking about?

Poverty is the nature of a poet

It is the only leaf with blood in the totem starry sky

Bones covered in turf

Bones in a cave in the rock

For you and for me

Buried deep in the snow and pupated

The doctrines of the world and the wickedness of the world died on the way

Red goose paws

Go and wash in the yellow earth

Go into the ravine and fetch firewood

Let the wild one

Hang your pants on the persimmon tree

Hide the buffalo herd in a corn straw tower

Let the tears laugh and let the eyes cry

Let the cold die and let the dead warm

Pick up a good day

Comb the viper with a black witch hair

Knit a piece of the osprey and tie it to the waist

of sunlight and sleep

Borrow a crab for a frozen river

The eight porters set out in the night

……

I was buried in the ravine

The ravine where ancestors have been buried for generations

The mouth of the bowl is large and loose

(2014-01-01)

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