Poet's words

Part 1: A song heard at dawn

Late one evening I | A song I heard at dawn | The thing called the heart | Mark Rothko and I | Mark Rothko and I 2 | Wheelchair dance | A song I heard at dawn 2 | A song I heard at dawn 3 | An evening conversation | A woman at the circus | A blue stone | When tears come, my body becomes an empty jar | May 31, 2005, the spring sea of ​​Jeju is half-sunlit.
The wind, like fish scales, powerfully pours saltiness on my body, and from now on, your life is a bonus.

Part 2: Anatomy Theater

Quiet Days | Before Dark | Anatomy Theater | Anatomy Theater 2 | Bleeding Eyes | Bleeding Eyes 2 | Bleeding Eyes 3 | Bleeding Eyes 4 | Evening Sketches | Quiet Days 2 | Evening Sketches 2 | Evening Sketches 3

Part 3 Evening Leaves

Summer days are passing | Evening leaves | To Hyo.
2002.
Winter | It's okay | Self-portrait.
2000.
Winter | Song of Recovery | Then | Again, Song of Recovery.
2008 | The Thing Called Heart 2 | Evening Sketches 4 | A Few Stories 6 | A Few Stories 12 | Wings

Part 4: Winter Beyond the Mirror

Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror | Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror 2 | Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror 3 | Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror 4 | Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror 5 | Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror 6 | Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror 7 | Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror 8 | Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror 9 | Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror 10 | Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror 11 | Winter on the Other Side of the Mirror 12

Part 5: The House of Dark Lights

A House of Dark Light | First Dawn | Reminiscence | Untitled | One Day, My Life | Oido | Preface | June | Winter in Seoul 12 | Evening Sketch 5

commentary
When the total solar eclipse ends · Jo Yeon-jeong

All the vivid things I have
Things that will crumble

crumbling tongue and lips,
Two warm fists

With two clear, crumbling eyes

One particularly large snowflake
I watch it sink into the black ice of the pool

What is it?
It sparkles
―Excerpt from “Evening Sketch 4”

The irony of life being born from death and light from darkness

The poet, who is mostly awake in the time between late afternoon and midnight (evening) and again in the time and space between midnight and dawn (dawn), says, “If permitted, I would like to talk about pain with my ‘broken lips//tongue in the dark’” (“Bleeding Eyes 3”).


Opening this dusky evening
If you go behind the world
Everything
Turn your back

The backs of people who quietly turned their backs
It's rather bearable for me
―Part of “Bleeding Eyes 4”

Before specific and special misfortunes arise in human life, the poet wants to reveal the origin of suffering and the truth in “a dot/that does not yet have a heartbeat/that does not know language/that does not know light/that does not know tears/in a crimson womb” and “the gap between death and life” (“Mark Rothko and I”).
To this end, he does not hesitate to put his own bleeding body on the line by “rolling his shoulders in, bending his waist, bending his knees, and pulling his ankles together with all his might” (“The Thing Called the Heart”).


If someone had tapped me on the body, I would have been surprised.
If anyone had listened, they would have been surprised.
Because the sound of black water would have resonated
Because the sound of deep water would have resonated
roundly
Rounder
Because the controversy would have spread
―“When tears come, my body becomes an empty jar”

Things that were clear and collected inside the body
The days of drying in the scorching sun are passing
sticky stuff
Even the sad ones
A day when we become dry and light together
―Excerpt from "Anatomy Theater 2"

The body, which is drying up and becoming empty, is an inseparable comrade of the soul, so in the end the soul also breaks, and an irreversible sense of loss and cracks inevitably comes.


any
Late at night I
From rice in white air
I was watching the steam rise
That's when I realized
Something has gone forever
Now and forever
It's passing by

I have to eat

I ate rice
―Full text from "One Late Evening I"

However, the poet is not overwhelmed by this sense of loss and sadness, but rather confronts the pain head on.
His voice, filled with burning passion as if he were renewing his resolve to wake himself up, is more resolute than ever.
I guess it is possible because he has lived through the days of intense breath, hot blood, passionate love, and fresh youth, which can be seen in the poems included in Part 5 of the poetry collection ('The House of Dark Light'), most of which were written in the poet's twenties.


Roll your feet while looking straight ahead

If your ankle is shaking or breaking,
The rhythm is scattered or broken

The face should face forward
Both eyes will be glaring

Look straight at something you can't face
So the sun or death,
fear or sadness

If only I could beat it
Put wind in your heart
slippery, slanted
―Excerpt from "Winter Beyond the Mirror 9 - Flamenco at the Tango Theater"

Wherever the light falls,
Pieces, pieces trying to shine

Ah, the first dawn,
I washed it all night and it's frozen now
The sadness that is always there,
Dedicated to my sorrow
Vivid blood vessels, beating sound
―Excerpt from "First Dawn"

The fiery pain that permeates life, the origin of the heartbreaking language of the Han River.

Now, when “the quiet evening flows through the ice paper” (“Evening Sketch 3”), in the dream of crossing in the darkness, in the noon on the other side of the mirror or in the dark blue midnight outside the mirror, what the poet wants to reach with his tongue “stepping back in a circle” (“The Thing Called the Heart”) are pure language, the essence of life, and scenes of urgency and recovery beyond pain and despair.


When you sob inside me
What should I do?
As if looking into the face of a crying child
Towards the salty, foamy tears
are you okay

Why is that, not
are you okay.
It's okay now.
―The "It's okay" part

now
What is the point of living?

When I was lying down and asking
On the face
The sun came down

Until the light passes
I had my eyes closed
Stay still
―Full text of "Song of Recovery"

In the poetry collection, “I Put Dinner in the Drawer,” there are words that bleed to approach the picture of silence.
And there are poets who gaze passionately into the heart of bleeding language and seek to confirm human beings as beings of the soul.
He seeks to reach the first language that brought forth shining truth from a world of silence and darkness.
This collection of poems will serve as a cornerstone for approaching a certain intimate origin and sanctuary beyond the intense images and sensuous sentences that have been the first to be mentioned when discussing Han River literature.


Poet's words

Some evenings were transparent.
(As some dawn does)

In the flames
There was a round silence.

November 2013
Han River

Back cover text

Subway Line 4,
Between Seonbawi Station and Namtaeryeong Station
There are sections where the power supply is cut off.

I counted the numbers to measure the time.

Twelve or thirteen seconds.
Meanwhile, the lights on the ceiling of the guest room went out.
There are a few low-intensity lights here and there.
It turns out to be emergency power.
It's too dark to continue reading the book.
I raise my head.

The faces of the people crouching across from me suddenly look pale.

The young man leaning against a door with a sign saying "Do Not Lean" looks precarious.

It's dark.

Were we always this dark?
If you listen closely to the rattling sound
The speed of the once fierce train is gradually decreasing.

It's just gliding along the rails with acceleration alone.

The moment I felt it had definitely slowed down,
The lights come on all at once, and there's a violent rattling again.
Suddenly no one
It doesn't look like Paris.
what
Did I come across?