House of the Tomato

If a woman wants to be a poet, she must dwell in the house of the tomato. -- Erica Jong

Regional website for the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets, in partnership with the Reader's Loft.

GREEN BAY / NORTHEAST

Celebrating, sharing and inspiring poetry throughout Wisconsin.

IMAGINE Poetry Reading

  • The Reader's Loft 2069 Central Court, Suite 44 Green Bay, WI 54311 USA

MARCH: Poetry that Roars

F.J. Bergmann & Bobbie Lovell

        F.J. Bergmann

        F.J. Bergmann

F.J. Bergmann writes poetry and speculative fiction, often simultaneously, appearing in Black Treacle, The 5-2, North American Review, On Spec, Right Hand Pointing, and elsewhere. Editor of Star*Line, the journal of the Science Fiction Poetry Association, and poetry editor of Mobius: The Journal of Social Change; recent awards include the 2012 Rannu Prize for speculative poetry and the 2013 SFPA Elgin chapbook award.

Medical History

Between my fourth and fifth ribs is a fistula, an opening,
Fabergé Easter egg window into my heart. Just a moment;
I'll unbutton my shirt . . . . Come closer, and you can peek
into a small sunlit garden surrounded by a clipped hedge,
an intimate landscape with mossy, indistinct ruins
sinking into the curves of undulating lawn. I can't see it,
myself; the mirror is never at quite the right angle.
But my friends and my cardiologist tell me all about it.
They say it is always sunny in there, although there are
clouds on the horizon. Occasionally someone will claim
to see mountains in the distance, and once a child said
he saw the turrets of a tiny city beyond the faraway hills.
No viewer has ever seen a single human or animal
in my heart, not even an insect, although I am told that
there are many flowers, whose faint, delectable perfume
is a rare emanation which I may only be imagining.
The shadows shift, but the phenomenon we call sun
is always behind the onlooker, and never sets. Sometimes
a longer, more angular shadow looms across the grass.
Whatever casts that dark movement remains invisible. 
-- F. J. Bergmann
 

Bobbie Lovell Bobbie Lovell has a visual art and graphic design background, but she's hopelessly smitten with words. Her professional experience includes over five years in the magazine publishing industry and numerous freelance jobs. She currently works in a corporate marketing department, where she applies her design, production and writing skills to materials ranging from philanthropic ads to billboards. Bobbie was a Mill Awards honoree in 2014, and her poems have been published or are forthcoming in several journals. She lives near Green Bay with her two favorite young people and a pile of paper that is slowly becoming a manuscript. www.bobbie-lovell.com

Bobbie Lovell

Bobbie Lovell has a visual art and graphic design background, but she's hopelessly smitten with words. Her professional experience includes over five years in the magazine publishing industry and numerous freelance jobs. She currently works in a corporate marketing department, where she applies her design, production and writing skills to materials ranging from philanthropic ads to billboards. Bobbie was a Mill Awards honoree in 2014, and her poems have been published or are forthcoming in several journals. She lives near Green Bay with her two favorite young people and a pile of paper that is slowly becoming a manuscript. www.bobbie-lovell.com

Acute Sinusitis

Curse you bloody body barometers,
you muggy magenta skull-caves
where excess cares gather and infect,

form cumulonimbi that threaten
to eject eyeballs like corks.
My head’s become a plumber’s nightmare

of clogged snot, a stoppered bottle
of starving gnat-sized bats shaken awake
from blessed hibernation.

I idly await your postnasal drip,

your icky ochre precipitate,
the divine deliverance of drainage.

-- Bobbie Lovell

© 2017 House of the Tomato