The cup rides in a basket, adrift on the gleaming table. The basket is boat-shaped, with no handle, and no oars by means of which the cup could row to a safe haven, although the basket is safety of a sort, preventing the cup from being easily knocked over and broken. The cup is the […]
Tag Archives: F.J. Bergmann
Flags of Defiance by F.J. Bergmann
After the grape jelly ran out, there was an ascendancy of marmalade, the sultan of the breakfast table, absolute monarch of the buttered bread. Chunks and globs periodically fell from grace on the way to the mouth and crushed into the carpet, snuggling up to dust mice and stray pubic hairs, until sucked into a […]
Brightness Falls by F.J. Bergmann
after Liviu Georgescu You, rising through parted waters, grow like pain in the beautiful light. Illumination is the instrument that fractures on your arms and legs, scorches your feet, burnt, burning. The prism of silence gives birth to the celestial spectrum of music. Across the continuum, a field of oleander and thistles the color of […]