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他是一只鼎,方方正正,经过了岁月的打磨,承受了风雨的雕刻。他写诗,编诗,就好像在那鼎上浇筑自己的汗血文字。文字是表情状物的工具,更是心神交织的气息,当我如同笨拙的蜗牛一样徜徉在《拯救火车》还有《打狗棒》的纵深腹地,那应接不暇的阅读触角分明感到了一种刻骨铭心的疼。没有山呼海啸,也未尝追逐时代的浪潮,亦距离主流欣赏习惯尚远,刘川的诗,像一根针,触碰着大地、生灵、岁月、人情世故,以及体制的疤痕,以及良知的沦落和苦闷的精神的象征。
He is a tripod, square, after years of grinding, under the storm of sculpture. He wrote poetry, compiled poetry, like pouring his blood on that trip Dinghan text. Text is a form of expression of the tools, but also the mind intertwined atmosphere, as I clumsy as clumsy in the “save the train” and “playing dog stick” deep hinterland, the overwhelming reading tentacles clearly felt a unforgettable heart The pain. There is neither a mountain call nor a tsunami, nor a tide of chasing times. Nor is it far away from the mainstream to enjoy the habit. Liu Chuan’s poem is like a needle touching the earth, creatures, years, human relations, as well as institutional scarring and the decline of conscience And the symbol of the depressed spirit.