My fingers cannot curl
In school we learned to write in cursive, and I still recall how we used to copy texts of dinosaurs. The Brontosaurus and Triceratops were teachers showing me how to […]
Monthly Archives: January 2018
This is just to say
I have poured out the rye you had saved on the counter cause when you are befuddled enough to eat up the plums I had saved for my breakfast you […]
Can you see the forest for the trees?
Forest — is not only trees but mycorrhizal mulch and shrubs; it’s fox and fowl it’s scent and sounds; our past and future — yet, we chainsaw trees to pulp […]
Lowest slow
When you see the woods And world in purple Or when creatures Soft in their solitude — Disturbed by caws of fowls. It’s not impossible — A cause is pink […]
After the coma
Through the curtains I hear voices, pink as candy-floss. Is this my merry-go-round? Future, present or my past? An angel approaches, her wings are broken but her hair is gold. […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 