Grand Rapids, December 7, 2027
Dear John, Your last letter brought tears to my eyes. I will never be able to watch crows in my backyard without thinking about their beaks buried in the eyeballs […]
Monthly Archives: December 2020
A kind of blue
The canvas is a drab, cumulonimbus grey, a kind of blue, silver lined in muted brasswe slowly slide, betweenthe amber bassand lime-green wisps on skins.let ourselves be caught in the […]
They say only the south wind flattens grass
Not from the sunshine, late in September,not from the rains of October and though moonlight might brighten Novemberor the cold of Decemberthat covers the lake with its first paper-thin icethe […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 