说 禅
她两腿的交叉处，樟脑球的气味
更浓了。有人说，萝卜条
只是一种传说的气味。在不愿回忆的地方，树的残骸
犹如门卡插入锁芯
秋天将腐烂的人，而不是树叶
一个隐士
从瓶子里掏出小鸟
一只导盲犬，出生时就有毒瘾，而这样的婴儿
将被放回巢穴
树叶变色的时候，一块破布
在锅里煮，气泡
则是上帝创造力枯竭的
象征。篱笆的一道裂口
当道士
在看
蝉蜕壳
没有女人的房子，女人
将面对一只空的钥匙环
庄子的歌声
雾锁在一面镜子里。一只蝴蝶摘下头盔，它抱怨
一个简单的框架
就这样被处理掉了，而一本书
永远没有明确的边界
Zen says
Her legs of the intersection, the smell of mothballs
even more. Someone says, a radish
just a legend odor. In unwilling memories of the place, the remains of a tree
like a door card into the lock cylinder
A man in autumn would rot away instead leaves
A hermit
who takes the bird out of the bottle
A guide dog, it is drug addiction at birth, and a baby
be back in the nest
When the leaves change color, a rag
cooked in a pot. a bubble
it's exhausted that the symbol of God creativity
A cracked bamboo fence
when a taoist
stare fixedly at
a cicada throws its slough
No woman's house, a woman
she will face an empty key ring
Chuang Tzu’s singing
mist inside a mirror. A butterfly take helmet off, it complains
a simple framework
disposed of so, and a book
never defined borders
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