My little tongue grows as if from the stone
In that fountain, I tasted
And then that water flows
Like in the millions of years
Through the same piece of meadow
The meadow where I played
A snail climbs up with its little straw hat on
Into its tree hole house
Takes off its heavy shells
Sigh
What a day
Cicada’s humming is everywhere
And all my hair grows
As if in one night
And all the black clouds on the road
Chasing
Swift among the sun plants
But I can’t row my boat
In a lake that is filled
Sometimes on the blackboard
I saw a dead crow
The shortest streets
Carved on the clumsy candles
Outside,
Grassland
Worn-out rocking horse
Sour patch lollipops
You wrote from red wall station
Handwritten
A letter to the fairy tale
Morning Piecing in the sea
Portrait
With hundreds finger marks
Far away
The snow is sending his messenger
Music is sounding in the classroom
Melodies never go away
On my desk
Air is blue
Curtain is white
Pencil is black
Lost-n-found
The purest light
From my poem
Oozed out feathers of all colors
I am longing for those wrinkles
Throw in them
Head over heels
For that
I can be closer to
Rosemary lips