[Afternoon Poem] Cell Phone and Nocturne / Go Gwang-sik

Inside cell phones live tearful anarchists. They reside under different names but know how to light signal fires faster than anyone else. Sometimes, hiding their identities, they race against time to relay news from mountain to mountain on the frontier. At times, they stir my emotions, use cunning, and are struck by the sword wielded by a ruffian, abandoned in a poem. Some rise to the rank of Dang-sang-gwan, trembling all over as they come to meet me. In the age of artificial intelligence, they form groups as Dongin and Seoin, whispering secrets no one else knows. When bloody winds like the Saho purge blow, they cut off their tails like lizards and disappear. Tonight, too, the waxing crescent moon rises to the jangdan rhythm of the anarchists’ jajinmori.

■ People who bow their heads demurely, people who bow their heads demurely and clasp their hands neatly, people who clasp their hands neatly and pray earnestly through day and night, people waiting for the word of God, people busy waiting for, conveying, and reflecting on the word of God, people who fear the word of God might disappear and open their eyes wide, people who confess and prove in real time to God all the good, proud, and shameful things they did today, people who rejoice, grieve, sigh, feel regret, are happy, and enjoy, people who admire and worship God even in the hellish subway, during meetings, waking up in the middle of the night, in distant foreign lands, and on airplanes, people who hold tightly to the neck until God blinks and dies, never letting go. ? Poet Chaesangwoo

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