F.J. Bergmann Again and Again You get excited about the seasons as if they had never happened before and while I will agree that each change in any of a myriad molecular arrays in every universe is of necessity unique I wouldn’t presume to rank them by effect on arbitrary senses even though that maple […]
Read MoreF. J. Bergmann Eclipse After I die I’ll be the light between the leaves spattering the sidewalk with small suns. F. J. Bergmann is singular but not quite solitary, despite the pandemic.
Read MoreF.J. Bergmann Open to Interpretation Well, it could be a metaphor for sex, but I prefer to think of it as representing the experience of being sacrificed on the altar of the great god Pan and then dismembered and flung to the wolves who are not mentioned directly in the poem. F.J. Bergmann edits poetry […]
Read MoreF. J. Bergmann Mind Disaster I think of all those people lost inside of their America. F. J. Bergmann would prefer that the days remain long year-round without the hassle of moving to the Equator.
Read MoreF. J. Bergmann We Call This Living White and angular, my mother’s plastic-upholstered furniture expressed not minimalism, but absence. F. J. Bergmann edits poetry for Mobius: The Journal of Social Change (mobiusmagazine.com), and imagines tragedies on or near exoplanets. Work appears irregularly in Analog, Asimov’s, Polu Texni, Pulp Literature, Silver Blade, and other places. A […]
Read MoreF.J. Bergmann It Began as a Conversation He went on at length after she gave him an opening. F.J. Bergmann would have liked to proofread the universe before it went live.
Read MoreF.J. Bergmann Guardian Demon If you elicit true candor (which can be done in many ways, like sharing a six-pack, a fifth, or maybe even brownies with a special ingredient), you’ll find that pretty much everybody has a beef: some secret grudge or sense of injury (using the term “sense” loosely), something about which, with […]
Read MoreF. J. Bergmann Vodka over Ice What he read wasn’t a eulogy or a poem, but a highway map, and I could already see the story funneling his adoration of his grandfather into infidelity, obesity and alcoholism fifty years down the road. F.J. Bergmann is tempted away from the virtues of simplicity far too often. […]
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