Tag Archives: jangsan


the dokkebi at the end of the road

asian toad in suyeonglast night i biked towards anpyeong , a town of old country roads, and smells of burnt grass and decomposing organic matter. i turned towards jangsan mountain and the street soon became a dirt road. then it was just the light of my torch and the narrowing path in front of me. as things got creepier i started thinking about old dokkebis cooking stew in their little skull-strewn caves.  i smelled a slow brewing cauldron somewhere near by. i inspected the treeline with my headlamp and a pair of cat eyes glowed back at me from the jungle. the road ended at a metal gate where i assume a dokkebi and its pet cat lived. it had cctv. i heard a low rumble. i looked back and in the distance i saw a train of the elevated line four quietly slither on the tracks above the empty street.


from anpyeong over jangsan to dalmaji

traveled to anpyeong in eastern busan on an automated train.

traveled to anpyeong in northeastern busan on an automated train.



countryside. greeted by puppies.


road to jangsan.



old mound graves of ancient koreans hidden under crusty leaves.


found a temple and its guardians in the wilderness. 안적사.







counted the steps. they were not 108.


found the croissant-shaped egg sacs of the korean salamander


and the spring batch of other amphibians.


saw men and women foraging for spring snacks in the short grass. 쑥 mugwort.


saw the boulder fields of jangsan and the towers of dalmaji.


march 2014

El sol de agosto derretía las velas en mi ventana. Y el sol de agosto me despertaba a las 6 de la mañana por donde crecía detrás de montañas verdes y ordenaba su imperio y mandaba a su gente a trabajar y a los parranderos ajishi a dormir.

Desde mi venta la ciudad de Busan en su fin oriental. De noche y de dia sus taxistas y sus profes de ingles y sus prostitutas de pierna larga que se suben a autos negros y sus peluqueras y sus niños enfermos y sus niños felices y su gente sin y con trabajo vagan bajo mi ventana. Felices y miserables y apunto de su autodestrucción.  Y se van y vuelven y se van otra vez. A mi amor, la ciudad de la Montaña Caldera.