The poet's boring poems

late spring

Fragrant and silent.

Put me in a trance. Xiao Gan, this is 1987. The spring breeze is strong and the lake is crazy.

Mother cut a new red skirt.

Female students have just grown up and are walking down the aisle with homework.

Ning Cai Chen. Be a county magistrate in Yongjiang, brew rice wine and raise fat ducks. People are not allowed to look at flowers.

It's boring. Why don't we go back to the Republic of China for three years?

You are Master Shen. It's an idiot's sister who is fascinated in a brothel.

I am a wild rose by the stream, born in late spring, and withers when exposed to dew.

The memory of a small town

The street is very narrow. It rains all the year round. Tofu shop, fish shop, sesame seed cake shop, vermicelli shop

A small post office

Auditorium with slogans.

A river quietly leads to the outer harbor. Various archways are scattered on mulberry trees in the field.

The slope where the bones are buried is covered with Polygonum hydropiper.

The boy who came home from school swooped down from the stone bridge with the girl.

-It's early summer.

This is a new floating town.

Guyinxingqiaotou

Lonely middle-aged, asking about the nearest hotel.