Jiao Dian's poems
Jiao Dian, born in Yunnan in 1996, holds a Ph.D. in Literary Creation from the College of Literature of Beijing Normal University. His works have been published in People's Literature, October, Rain and Flowers, Stars, Feitian, Han Poetry, Chinese Literature Anthology, Literature and Art Daily, Mangzhong, etc.
Pick a peach for several experiences
1
At first it was the lines
The curvature must be full and rounded
to adapt to the shape of various containers
You can't pierce any canvas, or eyes
It is best to look like an unfettered curve
But in fact one hundred percent conforms to non-Euclidean geometry
2
Color needs to be practiced well, for example
A little green, add a little white
It seems that the whole face does not appear too frivolous
The red should be tight, like a girl
It was as if any break would seep tears
3
Prepare a panoramic light source without dead angles
Avoid the spread of peach shadows
Avoid ink marks on the artist
Shadows are rich in secrets
For a peach
Having secrets is something to be feared
4
The smell is a pond, nose
It is an obese tiger that comes to drink water
Keep away from peaches that emit a strong aroma
It inflates self-awareness
It will completely overwhelm you
Before you lift your greedy beard
5
Peaches have to do with everything you know
Summer peaches are fat and autumn peaches are crisp
It can be easily eaten in all seasons
Except for one kind of peach
It snows all night in winter
It inhabits icy branches
Like a blackbird
Shave your eyebrows
When I was just at the full moon, a shaver said:
Lose now, get more later
So I lost half of my eyebrows
Knife, shaver, mother, foam in Qujing County
Because of the overflowing love, it was too late for me to say no
Later, my brow was empty
The promised dreams are not born
So I had to be with the purest lover
Hiding in the basement and kissing illegally
Shiver like pollen
Watch others struggle to take off from each other
The sun shone brightly on them
Freedom and love soon evaporated
I finally understood
To live is to hang a razor on your body
Seek, plunder, make up
That half-cut eyebrow that I never grew
Sofa life
Now, let's go back to the couch
Yellow sponge, eighteen years
The time of the war in Afghanistan, the age at which you left home
Falling ash, report cards, slaps on the butt
It also splashed with light, gilded awards, and the sound of punching at dinner dishes
The couch was hunched over the home's high back
As soon as your feet stretch out, you will be the sea
Then you have a bright future
It was too late to even wave
The light boat has already passed through the Ten Thousand Heavy Mountains
Now, let's talk about the sofa
The white one, fabric, latex filling
Meet every day, commute, pack your takeaways
Live like a starfruit
Day after day, cut yourself open to see the stars
Later, you are no more like a philosopher than a couch
Understanding that cleanliness is nothing more than wishful thinking
Then learn to endure the stains and let the crowd sail by
But yeah, but I still want to
Like a sofa
Dangerous and fragile
open
dinner
With devotion to the gods, respect every supper
Only the color of rice in the world moves me
When I was a child, I used to live with potato chips and fast food
So I understood the sharpness inherent in the Coke bubble
Understand the desolation of freedom
I love a cabbage so much
It can fool all the poor mouths
Add a little oil and salt and it becomes a furry spring
Wrapped in green softness
The joy of a debt-bound family
At such moments, I finally understood
Noble deities in the cheapest image
Manifest yourself in the world
Your headache is not good for a long time, the smell of gastrodia
Full of anxiety and rust
The dishes clanged, and the air collided with pale blue ice cubes
Pure heaviness, saltier than bitter seawater
Dinner is the shape of a porcelain bowl mouth
It's like waving at the entrance of a kindergarten school
Separation is the end we already know
But as long as you don't cry out loud
It's as if it won't shatter consummation
Life has always been like this
The rest of the future
Lie flat in a white porcelain dish
One by one
Gradually decrease
Peach blossoms and fish
- as a necessary correspondence
It's a blind spring
The rain stayed in Lanxi for three days
What is lost in winter
What you'll get today:
Peach blossoms moisturize and wild plums are sour
You dreamed of swimming in bed
Floating against the surface of the lake like life
It was a full night
The electric current flowed through the screen
Mandarin fish down the river
Out of the water scrapes off their own scales
It's like peeling off the ancient moonlight
It was an impact
You called me high in the sun
Peach blossoms fall into the eyes of fluctuating fish
They must merge
In the confrontation of the railroad tracks, on one side
Waiting for her to ride back in front of the mirror
Ephemeral proof of eternity
Ancient and fresh identify each other
We are so transparent and close
It was as if it would be pierced by tiny fish
And thus can make a huge amount of time die
Jia thought of poetry
Jia Xiang, born in Jiaodong Peninsula in 1994, has poetry in "Poetry Journal", "Yangzijiang Poetry Journal", "Stars", "Caotang", "Youth Literature", "Feitian", "Prose Poetry World" and so on.
A boy's time
He comes from the countryside
The banks of the river sparkle with dazzling golden waves of countryside
His young days hung on sharp fish hooks
In his youth, crucian carp had been plucked from the hook
He was as good at lying as any other boy
Good at the rhetoric of the stars
After he tore the dirt, bait and parents from his body
A distant girl took him
He was able to put on a spotlessly clean dress
Make friends, drink tea, delve into jokes and philosophies
He was able to hang a crystal chandelier with Jesus
Halls, receive the trophy
To love the nineteenth century, and her long shadow:
Medieval, or earlier
Those aristocratic youths who agonize over death all day long
Melancholy is cruciform
But even so, every morning
They will still fix their beards
Like
A cyan café is open
A cyan café opened toward his time
Now, go through it all
After experiencing all this, he returned to this riverbank
Hear that the water comes from the beginning of some history
Make a mocking, immutable clamor
He realized
The fish hooks hanging from the bottom of the river were rusty
Facing the river, he took them off one by one
A metaphor for the body
From early morning to dusk —
Until the reflection of the river
He was once again skinny and empty
"He spent his whole life hanging on sharp fish hooks
The time of his life has been crunched
It could also be grass carp
Plucked from the hook"
After the farmer's son took the plane
The son of a farmer who flew for the first time
Carrying too many overweight items
At the security checkpoint, he unloaded one after another
Jiaodong hills, Bohai Bay, wheat fields in June
The first snow of the winter month. Then there are the small items:
Frogs, insects, morning dew, autumn frost
Behind him are the sons and daughters of the citizens
In the midst of the urging, he simply took off his clothes and pants
Naked for examination. It took a long time
The moment the subdued woman let go
He suddenly heard something inside him
The alarm goes off
The moment you sit down
He's also nervously conducting self-screening:
What exactly is unsafe?
What's not to unload?
Late. The plane had taken him up
Peaks of air. Including death
Everything is losing weight
He also joined the mitigation: that piece
Heavy objects that cannot be removed
Flutter fell off his inside
Safe. His eyes were empty as he saw
The mountains are full of God's claws
Clouds are lining up in prehistoric formations
Stand guard for humanity today.
At the moment, he is the son of a bird
He was smuggling the life of a bird.
However, the plane is about to arrive
All the unloaded weights were waiting for him on the ground:
Autumn frost, insect chirping, wheat fields, hills
There are also those who fly high into the sky to parachute from his body
Peasant father
The Song of the Skinny Man
All listening:
Thin man, man, thin man all over the world
Don't be stunned, eat!
Here it is
The fat of the lamb, the rice in the soil
Don't fight, eat.
(Father said that died on the fight)
Fighting will shed animal blood
Don't cry, eat.
(Mother said, go to the corner and cry)
Crying consumes the grains of sand in your eyes
Did you hear that?
You, skinny man, thin man chasing the setting sun
Stop it! Just – eat!
What is the sunset? Ancient, cruel teasing.
You, the skinny man who stole lightning
Stop too – eat! Wake up
Humans don't love anything that burns too hot
And you —and you—"
Broken, betrayed, skinny man on wood
Why are you hanging there?
Come back, skinny man, skinny man who left the table
Can't the old flesh keep you?
Can't the feast that is not scattered fill you?
Who is seducing you?
Who's sucking you?
Who is giving you?
Thin man, man, thin man under the whole world:
Higher food for lean men
A colder pair of hands of sacrifice
Occasional afternoon
This afternoon
As a wife, you lie on my right side
You're resting
The vast right side of my life
Also resting.
Outside the window, the wind carried another new wind
We hung young clothes early in the morning
It is with the blue sky of February
Form the background of the moment.
Good memory
Those bodies and images of the past
Like green, white and yellow socks on a drying rack
Hanging before my eyes.
Even once —
Do our feet really go through them?
On earth, walking a real road?
I'm not sure.
I can't confidently identify:
This girl is you, this boy is me.
They have been washed
Hanging over the background of our lives.
So I am not the same person as today
Milosz was wrong.
There is only one kind of forever: man is always new.
Then you wake up
Like just born from this fortuitous afternoon
I'm identifying you
You're also identifying me.
Tonghui River forgot something
There are many fish that have been forgotten in the Tonghui River
I've seen one
Ordinary fish in the waves, good fish in the fish
He sinks when he is alive, and rises when he dies
TonghuiHe forgot even more
The people on the bridge spit out one sentence, and the water under the bridge spit out one sentence after another
Between the lies on the bridge and the truth in the water
My ears listened and my mouth sighed
The eternal Tonghui River flows eternally
Those who walk on the left bank are too late to say goodbye to those who stop on the right bank
Those hiding under the water are too late to say goodbye to those who stop at the surface of the water
Because There are still many things that Tonghuihe is anxious to forget
So much so that the Tonghui River forgot
I am being crossed by the Tonghui River at this moment
I want to forgive Tonghuihe.
Edit | Achuan
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