Poetry — Lines that burn

The Red Lamp began as a compact pressure chamber. Short lines, little ornament, a temperature that lives just under the skin. These poems refuse the balm of explanation; they stand as witness. Their materials are the hard facts of a northern city — wind across stone, money in short supply, faces that avert — and the soft facts that persist regardless: need, touch, the wish for a second voice. If the early refrain is a curse — let the world burn — the deeper movement is toward attention: to burn away what is idle so that what is necessary can remain.

Time distinguishes the poems from the new prose. The verses carry the weather of the mid-1980s and keep it intact; their grain is historical as well as personal. Yet they read without patina. The diction is economical, the syntax direct, the line breaks exact. Read them as field notes taken under pressure: minimal language, maximal charge. They are the backbone of the project, the place where the tone was set and the constraints were chosen — a self-imposed narrow corridor through which the later work would also pass.

• 存在 1
• 存在 2
• 存在 3
• 存在 4
• 存在 5
• 存在 6
• 存在 7
• 存在 8
• 存在 9
• 存在 10
• 我的生活
• The Buddha
• 内心深处
• 小小祈祷
• 疑虑
• 节约
• 给予
• 沉默
• The Diaries
• Quietly Still
• 角色扮演
• Good at Boats
• Monday 16 July
• The Bookshop

Stories — Lines that travel

The prose is recent. It keeps the early severity but moves outward — across streets, borders, and rooms — to the friction of encounter. Where the poems compress, the stories expand; where the poems witness, the stories work. They treat labour, ritual, and ordinary time with the same seriousness once reserved for crisis. The sentence lengthens, the lens widens, but the discipline remains: no sentimentality, no soft focus, no ornament that does not carry weight. The result is a line that can travel — between people, into institutions, through days — and come back with something exact.

• 红树荫下》（1985 年）
• 姬章的分形
• Bogwangsa — A Pilgrimage in Five (and One) Stories
• 韩国人和我
• 我的韩国之旅

Contemporary Stories — a current liturgy of small acts

本阶段有三个方面。 姬章的分形 使用一个重复出现的框架来测试注意力的作用：回到相同的形状，发现不同的真相。 博光寺 collects work and worship on temple ground — sweeping, ringing, carrying — as a liturgy of small acts. 韩国人和我 brings faces into focus at close range, without exoticism, allowing language, food, and misstep to do their plain work. Alongside them run the koi pieces: pond prose about care, water, patience, and loss — not idylls, but studies in responsibility.

为什么它能保持

What remains constant is economy of diction and the refusal of easy light. What has changed is purpose. The early work burns to clear a space; the later work uses that cleared space to build connections — with places, with tasks, with others. 红灯 不是遗物，而是标准：字数要少，热度要高，目标要稳。