The Midwest Book Review

"What first grabbed me about the book was the cover illustration. I know you can't judge a book by such things, but it really is a gorgeous cover, and actually mirrors the poems in the book....The poems are stunning. And the book itself is well designed and put together. This is an incredible collection and belongs on any poetry reader's shelf."

ClevelandPoetics, the blog

"Constellation of the Dragonfly is a poetry collection which glows like a pearl necklace of the mind... this collection is a banquet of otherworldly dreams, techno-magic, familiar images mutated unexpectedly by Bergmann's expert and moving wit."

Linda D Addison
Space and Time Magazine

"Bergmann's strengths in this collection, as with her previous work, include vivid imagery, her enjoyment of unusual words, an off-beat sense of humor, and her agile imagination.."

Wendy Vardaman
Free Verse

F.J. Bergmann lives in Wisconsin and at fibitz.com. Journals that have published her work include Beloit Poetry Journal, Cannibal, DIAGRAM, Margie, North American Review, nth position, Southern Poetry Review, Unpleasant Event Schedule, Ur-Vox, VOX, and a number of science-fiction journals. Her previous chapbooks are Sauce Robert (Pavement Saw Press 2003) and Aqua Regia (Parallel Press 2007).

Since our publishing of this fantastic chapbook, Bergmann has been a finalist in Opium's 7-line contest. She also won the Rhysling short poem award from the Science Fiction Poetry Association.



Angels Move into the House Next Door

Our old neighbors were old. He went first,
but they both smoked, and she died
in her sleep, setting the bed on fire. The house
sold a month later.

The new occupants whitewashed the outside
of the house, even the windows, and planted
the yard with white violets, lilies, and apple trees
that never set fruit. They put in a thick hedge
of briar roses, heavily thorned.

The postman says everything in the house is gold,
but he only saw it once through a crack in the door
and now they have a P.O. box and when there are
packages they shout for the FedEx person
to leave them on the porch.

They are musical. Their doorbell plays a fanfare
of trumpets. We can't tell how many of them there are
but some nights when the snow is falling they sing in there
and the opaque windows glow like dying lightning bugs.
The words sound familiar but unclear.

They drive a pearl-white stretch Hummer with
a license plate that says HEV N LEE. We don't know
when they leave, but at midnight they pull back into
their driveway, engine a soft purr, radiator grille
clogged with silver feathers.

They nod politely when they pass us on the sidewalk
and sometimes leave a note asking to borrow
a cup of white sugar or a cup of bleach
for some kind of party they are having
with guests we never see.