Bob Bergeron possesses the intensity of an industrial-strength bug zapper. He is constantly buzzing, crackling and popping, practically glowing, feeding on ideas like dragonflies. His poetry possesses these same qualities; simple and vibrant, it kicks you in the ribs.
With the hulking physical presence of a rugby player, eyes gleaming behind spectacles, Bergeron folds his hands patiently in his lap. I can see words below the surface, pressurized, magma-like and threatening. When he talks, the words have barbs, but he is, above all, a humble man.
“If the photo doesn’t turn out, you can just draw a stick figure.” Bergeron said.
I got together with Bergeron for tea and questions last Tuesday night. Bergeron is the editor in chief of the Portland Banner, a scrappy Portland ‘zine containing his and other’s fiction and observations. and the photographs of Ron Ricker. Bergeron also published a collection of his own jailhouse poetry.
Bergeron came to Portland four years ago, when he was still drinking. He tried to get some writing projects together but found he couldn’t get anything done.
“I had a honky-tonk lifestyle. I was impossible to live with. I ended up in jail.”
In jail, Bergeron made a powerful effort to reshape his priorities and was rewarded with a job that allowed him to use a computer all day.
“I treated my time in jail like time in a monastery.” Bergeron said.
Bergeron has been printing the Portland Banner since March. He works at home, “jamming on the computer and cranking it out of my bedroom.” It has a circulation of 200 and has been virtually ignored by the mainstream press. Bergeron says, “People read it. Enough people are curious about it so all the copies I drop off are usually gone. It would be more popular if we had glossy pictures and lipstick giveaways.”
Bergeron’s “Banner” is an independent monthly publication that accepts unsolicited written material, comics and large sacks full of cash. Contact Bob Bergeron at [email protected]. Ask for the Portland Banner at an alternative literature outlet near you.
DAY 118 IN JAIL
By: Bob Bergeron
Jail in the evening, more jail in the
morning
And jail in between.
Partly cloudy,
Mostly jail
Count the days and the way I
Count the days
Everything counts and is counted
Mostly you
When you’re in jail
Oatmeal Mon. Tues. Weds.
The same day over and over
Mared only by the days
When there is no
Oatmeal
Christmas is another
Time when the TV is on,
Easter is when the TV is on
And when we get the newspaper. I ask the guard what time it is
“Soon” he says.
What he said yesterday
A thousand thousand miles in circles
I walk from here to
Paris and back
The cheapest vacation ver, for every night
You can stroll a different avenue
In jail.
From “TRAILERPARK DIAMOND” a collection of poems by Bob Bergeron.
Used with permission.