Our Laughter
Afterwards. When only veins remain, when the bursting buds of love, the “yes” and tingling taste of flesh has faded, there is silence. Today. Fine lines of sorrow etch your […]
Monthly Archives: April 2016
Ink-dance
This poem is an ink- dance, it’s my trance, a riddle-maker’s tune for buds-a-bursts and barefoot-walks. A poem for the sake of sun-glassed stance for red-eyed-dawns and dusk of cotton-candy-skies […]
The answer is the not to be
When answers come today it’s not to be a thin white duke, a purple prince; a year the music died (again); in haze it’s seen comparing to a summer’s day […]
Tree of you
Dance me forests flowered glades dappled sunlight barefoot you. Dance me leaves arched above waving arms canopy of you Dance me oxygen chlorophyll breath of mine from verdant you. Dance […]
The elephant graveyard
There is a place where it’s said that elephants retreat in solitude to die. When the aging matriarch cannot lead or follow, and her daughters know the way, a day […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 