His unmarked grave
Beneath a willow, unmarked graveremembered in the winter’s shadowby an aging raven in the tree once a vibrant maiden, waitingfor her soldier left to die somewherebeneath a willow unmarked grave […]
Mysterious Moon
Like the moon, you saidabout mewithout giving it context, and Itoo wary to probe, started to wonderto wander between differentreasons;was it my coldness as snow?or was it becauseI was only […]
Candlemass
Halfway into the nascent light I noticed, on my morning walk, a pre-sunrise twilight making my wood-trek viable. I walked to the sound of cold snow squeaking underneath my feet. […]
Claiming your virtue
Who can claim to be virtuouswithout feeling some pride? Who cannot be cravingfor the possessions of others? Who can be righteouswithout screaming in wrath? Who can ask for othersto pick […]
Unprocessed
I dream darkly,like that bile eruptingunprocessedafter eating too much curry,my dreams are built frombitterness of lingering regretsfrom fermented vindicationsremaining still unclaimed. My dreams are draperiesit’s soot and ashmy shroud prepared,My […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 