The old ash tree
November. The fog has smothering fingers and my hair is sticky with rain. I choke while opening the urn to spread her ashes… recalling: “Can you see the dryad?”, my […]
Monthly Archives: November 2018
Utopia is close
Utopia is close my dear, closer than you think, but it’s neither land of plenty nor a constant struggle. It’s neither dream nor for real. It’s neither rain nor sunshine. […]
A mile of your laughter
Bring me your sunrise and in evening winks of your moon. Bring me a mile of your laughter and candyflossed words. Bring me a bat of your lashes and a […]
Money for nothing?
I might leave a larger tip if you bat your lashes and wink me tender. I might pay you well for impish grins, but then again, I might thank you […]
Let me keep my ol’ fedora
I might not be the prophet John and you are not Salome, but could you still let free that seventh veil and spend the night with me. I’ll offer you […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 