Jerome Berglund has worked as everything from dishwasher to paralegal, night watchman to assembler of heart valves. Many haiku, haiga and haibun he’s written have been exhibited or are forthcoming online and in print, most recently in bottle rockets, Frogpond, Kingfisher, and Presence. His first full-length collections of poetry were released by Setu, Meat For Tea, Mōtus Audāx press, and a mixed media chapbook showcasing his fine art photography is available now from Yavanika.
Belinda: When I first started getting bio info on you all I saw was your accomplishments as a writer. I have only heard your music. Do you, in fact, play a guitar?
San: Yes, I do. I play an acoustic guitar. I would like to create my own instrumentals. My debut instrumental album titled “Acoustic Recital” came out in 2024. A mini-album with my lyrics recently came out in early 2025.My music career is only three years old because I decided to be an acoustic guitarist in early 2023 while I started writing career in 2000.
I have published over a dozen English books including “Reading a George Orwell Novel in a Myanmar Teashop and Other Essays” “An English Writer (novel)” “A Shirt and Other Poems” and my recent one is a publication of Penguin SEA and its title is Yangon Days.
Belinda: I don’t think you’ve ever posted written work in GAS. At the end of these question please post at least two of your best poems.
San: No, I don’t. But, my instrumental appeared in GAS 20.
Belinda: Which came first, the writing or the music?
San: Actually, the music came first because I began playing the guitar when I was in my middle school days in 1987. I learnt to play the guitar firstly from my neighbor who had an acoustic
guitar. He taught me some basic chords such as C major, A minor, E minor and G major. Using those chords, I could play some Myanmar songs. Later, in our three-month long summer holidays, I took up a short guitar course with Ko Myo Sint to whom I came to know through a music instruments rental service in an uptown ward. KMS was a lawyer by profession, but he could also play the guitar well. He taught me the basic rhythm patterns and more chords. Luckily, when I was in my high school days in 1990s, I had a classmate who was interested in playing classical guitar and we became close friends. We met often at his place, practicing and playing classical guitars. Through him, I came to know Salai Zalyan, the legendary bassist of ACES music band and we both studied music with him. Also, we learnt playing the guitar from Ko Myo Tun, another legendary lead guitarist of The WILD ONES music band. In fact, I had another guitar instructor whose name is Aung Ko Ko who taught me music notations, and music theories. That time, heavy metal was very popular among youths and I had a great admiration for those speed guitarists such as Joe Satriani, Paul Gilbert, Richie Sambora, etc. Not only heavy metal, I also like rock, Spanish, blues and jazz too..
Belinda: I read that you are a translator. What languages do you translate to and from?
San: Yes, I am a bilingual writer. My native tongue is Myanmar and so, I translate Myanmar works into English and English into Myanmar.
Belinda:Yangon, Myanmar seems to influence your work a lot. Is this the place of your birth and where you still live? Have you traveled and worked in other countries? If so, where and what did you do?
San: Yangon is my birthplace, and I live downtown in which there are many heritage buildings. And famous international writers such as Rudyard Kipling, Somerset Maugham, H.G Wells, Pablo Neruda, George Orwell, etc visited and lived in Rangoon (the former name of Yangon). Those literary luminaries are my inspiration. I haven’t traveled other countries.
In 2013, I participated in a literary project called H2 project organized by British Council and I became a short story writing instructor to conduct a short story writing workshop. Later, the first time ethnic short story book both in Myanmar and English was published locally and in U.K in 2015. In the meantime, I became a licensed tour guide after attending TTS (Tourism Training School) in 2018. Since then, I showed people around literary spots in downtown Yangon in which there are many heritage buildings. I feel quite happy to show people around those places. At the same time, I worked locally as a freelance contributor for local newspapers, journal and magazines such as Myanmar Times, Myanmore, My Yangon Magazine, Home and Service Journal, etc.I also submit my writings to literary magazines in the Asia Pacific Region, UK, and U.S such as Asia Literary Review, Kitaab, Mekong Review, Borderless Journal, etc.
For a generation now, or better, writers have been able to connect with each other through electronic methods of writing. While some writers may use these means to disseminate their work, others tell us about new works in the hopes that a few of us will buy a book, a physical book. It is in this way of announcement that we who read are presented with opportunities for our personal libraries; and herein it must be stated that civilized people have personal libraries, and these collections ought to contain a few rare items, such as chapbooks. For the book lover, holding a rare and potentially fragile print entity speaks to intimate and hidden histories: it’s a physical experience.
Often, the chapbook might come from someone we actually do not know. Oh, obviously we saw the post about this new work, and maybe other posts from the press or the author, but we don’t really know their favorite flavor of ice cream. We are gambling that perhaps there will be something here to ponder, something that speaks to our interior selves.
When the book comes, it is folded into a few sheets of colored, better weight printer bond that feels as if it’s part of the cover. The cover itself is a collage printed on cardstock stapled to cream colored hot press paper that enhances the readability of the standard font used. The work has neither contents or pagination, and it’s not necessary with a chapbook that’s a dozen folded sheets. The book is a pure example of the chapbook format, and this one has a subtle and elegant presence. Ironic to this perception is the book’s title Revolting (Cul-de-sac of Blood, 2024), the work being a recent offering from Juliet Cook.
Those unfamiliar with Cook are provided with both an acknowledgments page and an author bio that testify to some years dedication to poetry. The website for the press includes a purchase option through PayPal; potential readers are thus assured that this is a more professional indie press. There’s also a list of other books from the press, and the website has a submission link for the press’s periodical zine.
Thus, we can confidently approach the poems. Cook’s style oscillates between the conversational and the surreal without ever being derailed from the poem’s thesis. There’s a fun energy here, a sense of play, even when the topics themselves might not be lighthearted. The centerfold poems in this chapbook discuss being a poet on the left side, “Fifty Mice” and a physical injury on the right, “Thorns Stuck Inside My Left Foot”. Both poems use a conversational language, with “Fifty Mice” employing repetition and interior experience, while “Thorns [...] Foot” employs a narrative sequence. However, the acuity of imagery and the use of self-deprecation elevate this poem. The first stanza of “Thorns[...]Foot” shows an elegant fluidity
I fell down on a Sunday.
Better to fall than to bow.
I fell down in a restaurant,
Landed on my knees with my feet bent backwards,
almost automatically bruised, as if
to teach me a lesson for walking for myself
My left foot looked like a strange stigmata
with the blood stuck inside, growing dark.
The reader is in the scene, a relatively ordinary slip fall agony, but is immediately struck with the facetious tone reinforced by “better to fall than to bow” and “to teach me a lesson for walking”, so that the empathetic ouch leads not to tragedy but transforms into the familiarity of self-derision. The sonically sensitive will also note the opening slant assonance in “down/Sunday/bow/down” shifts with the plot to long e with “knees/feet/teach” and the various a vowels that culminates in “strange stigmata [...] growing dark” , so that the poem itself howls e—a as it opens and we all fall.
As rare as it is to physically resonant with a poem, to feel it in our physical selves, it is a moment in reading that reinforces why we read—the connection with other selves. And while chapbooks aren’t often found in bookstores—when they are, they require patient inspection—becoming mostly centered in the ouroboros realm of book festivals, they are the bread and butter of many an independent press. In our times now of needing to prioritize individual makers over global producers, it does a greater good to buy a chapbook for our libraries. Sometimes, the author even signs it.
Su Zi is a writer, poet and essayist who produces a handmade chapbook series called Red Mare. She has been a contributor to GAS from back when it was called Gypsy Art Show, more than a decade ago.
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