Three Poems: I Attend the Dying Ceremony of the Sun

white zone

The rain in winter is both one and infinite

It is a stagnant swamp that does not wake

Angels, the poor and straightforward facts of life

Just staring at the nothingness inside of me

It's enough to waste my life in vain

So I take part in the sun's last rites

In a short-lived miracle: the ground leaves and flowers fall

Its grand colors are like an overloaded gift box

The pearls are thickening, showing stills on my face

This understated, dispensable smile

stealing a living in winter

Imagination about sunshine

Hanging in front of my eyes, waiting with dignity

better than sweating

winter

It's getting foggy

tired limbs chilly

The gloomy winter knocks on the wall of fate

The wind intercepts small animals

trembling sleeping river

white endless, black endless

In the middle is stumbling and hiding

I'm afraid of freezing, more afraid

hug from time to time

counting stars

I'm in my eyes, this little observation deck

shivering

The cold rain has just stopped, the silk of the cloud

A slide that floats in the night sky

I'm counting the stars, I haven't counted the stars in twenty years

I counted more than 20 in one breath tonight

The flickering Orion constellation

The fruit that leaked through the window...

The galloping moon makes me feel myself

Standing on a frisbee, almost passed out

I'm traveling through time and space, a moment without speed

Time dances wildly at the pole of stillness