The moon’s an onion
The moon’s an onion, sun’s a pear as sweet as gold but silver-sharp the bitter night consists of tears. Yet daylight bring me teeth of sharks it’s cruel scimitars, it’s […]
Monthly Archives: December 2015
Friendship with cards
Her cheeks were blossoms pink from turns of friendly cards. Before I turned the fool for sequins laid, I drew death (as if mortality was nothing more than life) Counting […]
A sapling found
O silent moon, divine, when velvet gowns are shed, your silver slips through fingertips of frozen branches while from the deeper downs, perfumed, a song of dryads cling; their lips […]
Listening to shadows
I listen to my shadow, spelling words of moon, a certain taste in songs, the grass beside the path we used to walk where birds were flutes and taste of […]
… and she was light
Sun kissed the dry grass a last time before condensation froze to silvery rime. A veiled woman drifted almost aimlessly to the edge of an industrial plot. Cristina was beautiful […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 