Jerome Berglund

I’m Sure

The prince was charming and the princess was sleeping. He told them he did her a favor. She didn’t remember it, so no foul play, surely. He explained that he woke her up, and she confirmed this version of events. A chance encounter. He’d proven unable to resist her allure, was the true victim here. The trouble he suffered by rescuing a damsel from her secluded tower, the many scrapes and scratches from braving thorns; were not his efforts heroic, even worthy of commendation? He was royalty, heir to the crown, wasn’t some sort of diplomatic immunity in the equation, shouldn’t his class be protected from prosecution? His people reigned over these lands, made their laws, must be capable of rewriting them, interpreting extenuating factors, unforeseeable circumstances – look at what the princess wore, after all, offering herself on a silver platter, leaving her bedroom window unlocked – that’s undeniable mitigation.

a midwife delivers
day’s end squeals like Lizzy Borden
upturning alley bins

The Line

wire of least resistance
easiest, if not the best way
recalculated folk physics
animal foot traffic erodes soil
emulates / imitates electricity ~
creates a desire path
current = voltage / resistance
the nameless drifters, runaways,
junkies in bulrushes
contractors, freelancers, entrepreneurs
are your gloves white as snow?
booze, blowjobs, tabs and pills
gods reside in the Big Dipper
it’s not a global reference
rocket fuel once ignited
marijuana, flirtation, restraints
recalcitrant phosphoric dirigible
damming precipitates an eager flood
lurches from a nozzle
ball-gags, manacles, chains
unsavvy penny-wise dilettante
linked bondage ankle cuffs
a periphery of unseen stars
experience instills simplicity
experience is uncut wood
find harmony in a derivative ecosystem
please, you don’t have to do this

About the Author

Jerome Berglund, recently nominated for the Touchstone awards and the Pushcart Prize, graduated from the University of Southern California’s Cinema-Television Production program and spent a picaresque decade in the entertainment industry before returning to the midwest where he was born and raised. Since then he has worked as everything from dishwasher to paralegal, night watchman to assembler of heart valves. Jerome has many poems in a variety of forms exhibited and forthcoming online and in print, most recently in the Asahi Shimbun, Bear Creek Haiku, Bamboo Hut, Bottle Rockets, Cold Moon Journal, Daily Haiga, Failed Haiku, Frogpond, Haiku Dialogue, Haiku Seed, Japan Society, Poetry Pea, Ribbons, Scarlet Dragonfly, Triya, Under the Basho, Wales Haiku Journal, and Zen Space. He is furthermore an established, award-winning fine art photographer, whose black and white pictures have been shown in New York, Minneapolis, and Santa Monica galleries. Find him on Twitter @BerglundJerome.