Ancient honors slipping
With pigtails, rosy cheeks they praise an ancient freedom, silent beauty of our northern lands summer meadows, sun and skies. But when with rose-bud lips they praise our honored name […]
Monthly Archives: August 2015
The texture of a leaf
The texture of a nameless leaf as crumbled in my hand, is much the same as promises past midnight made. The sound of wings — a skein of geese, is […]
Of Tylenol and anemic soot
“My truck is the size of a green wheelbarrow full of dead horsepower. I dug it up in the cemetery. ” ― Jarod Kintz, Sleepwalking is restercise This poem is the […]
When translucent gold is gone
Like water flows my dreams are caught, between your sky and soil, but on a sunbeam lost for wings: as chrysalises turn to silt. When my translucent gold is gone, […]
Crumbling truths
Afterwards the lies are crumbling. The sea is poisoned and through the smog the moon is a sickle in my blood. Sometimes I hear your voice: “They told us it […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 