Author Archives: Jonathan Berger

There are different ways to die, of course, whether willingly or on accident. You could have placed that sweaty soap on the ground for just that purpose, a less-hilarious banana-peel tick-tocking its way to time-bomb effectiveness. You could take pills … Continue reading →

If you knew what I thought of you how I felt what you meant it wouldn’t have mattered for you would have been too much for me even if I was ever brave enough to tell you. You were too … Continue reading →

It’s easier to assume that every word you ever wrote has ever been always ever written about me. If I just make that a blanket belief it takes the issue of ego out of of every relentless debate wondering if … Continue reading →

Oh Marni, of the big boobs and the spiky hair from my favorite cafe in the village, if we were to collect all the poems I failed to write about you thanks to my own self-censor and pile them into … Continue reading →

I wrote a poem yesterday and today thought “How nice. Perhaps I shall do it again!” Once, there was a day when that was not a rare thing to say. I’d not have bothered to utter the words so obvious … Continue reading →

Somewhere in Philadelphiathere are scratched your initials on a street corner (though it’s really in the middle of the sidewalk where I etched them). It was years and years ago when we were young and I was full of vigor … Continue reading →

I wrote this one special.I wrote this for you. I wrote this one in particular for this particular day in this particular way so we could particularly while away hours working our way through the particulars of this… particular piece. … Continue reading →

She rests on my chest and I pull her closer still. I feel her nerves. I hear her heart, it pulses against me as I breathe. I hope that the closeness calms quiets kills and stills the crazy energy barely … Continue reading →

You said yes and the days are like diamonds. You said yes and I am concussed. You said yes and I’m wicked mixed nature: I’m pleased as pie, but my confusion’s robust. You said yes which I thought wouldn’t happen. … Continue reading →

At some point it will be easy to write again. The ideas will flow the words will dribble out of the pen the sentences simply stream from my fingers as I tippity type them onto the page. Someday the process … Continue reading →