诗一次机缘我路过那家民办文学杂志社。几个拥有文学情结的男男女女用心营造的更像是草编的容器,它太热情,也太脆嫩。在县城的边缘地带,偶尔燃放着寂寥的几缕烟花。他们召我入社,我当即答应了。而我自身并没有舞文弄墨的爱好,为什么和他们聊到一块了?或许血液中潜藏着宿命的文字之毒。那年,我31岁。这样的文学启蒙有点高龄。有点让人捏把汗。我开始放弃业余打牌行当,有生以来, Poetry a chance I pass that privately run literary magazine. Several men and women with literary complexities intentions create more like straw containers, it is too warm, too crisp. On the fringe of the county seat, there are occasional licks of lonely fireworks. They called me into the society, I immediately agreed. And I do not have a hobby to get involved with, why chat with them? Maybe the blood is lurking in the fate of the poisonous writing. That year, I was 31 years old. This literary enlightenment a bit older. A bit of a pinch Khan. I began to give up amateur card business, since life,