收获
一只蚊子
放大了夜的尺寸
它带着一滴
我的血
我是被夜的尺寸
缩小了的蚊子
我带着一滴
夜的血
我是没有尺寸的
飞翔的夜
我带着一滴
天堂的血
写作
始于河流而止于源泉
钻石雨
正在无情地剖开
这玻璃的世界
打开水闸，打开
刺在男人手臂上的
女人的嘴巴
打开那本书
词已磨损，废墟
有着帝国的完整
=====
北岛这两首旧诗蛮刻骨的。
- posted on 02/01/2005
Wow!
Penetrating and chilling! Yet beautiful.
The poems are so brilliantly wonderful as if the poet was dead.
I know he is still alive. I wonder how he would feel when he looks at the lines again, will he recongnise himself betweem those lines? Will he understand his own soul in the distance of time?
Yes, XW, you are right, I suppose.
You can hear the bones are cracking when you read them. At first I like the first one. Then later, I like the second one better. Then I can't tell which one is my favorite as if I am charmed.
I am charmed. Thank you.
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