Blue Mud Modern Poetry: Pigeon

Pigeon

Text/blue mud

A pigeon, flying in the sky

That dusk, fell on my palm

A pigeon, white clouds are full of water

That night, Yuelang Xing was sparse

It stays in my wine glass

Transparent, just give me a circle perfection

And there is no trace waterfront line

A pigeon, fly in my blood

Maybe, it's just a passenger

But stayed up with a gurgling cry

And white feathers

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