In a Parisian café, after and before.
I sit alone stirring my coffee turning cold. There is no reason to stir, I always drink my coffee black but the sound of the spoon hitting the porcelain masks […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Library 2.0
The library is covered, floor to ceiling, with government-issued brand- new sixty-inch plasmoid screens blaring infotainment as fresh barista- librarians serve coffee to the glass- eyed teenage girls sitting glued […]
After fire
After fire, the crosses, gowns, and graveyards bones and birch-trees noses, shackles, ropes lay ashen pyre-cold and we are left as ash to fertilize the flowerbeds ash to choke on […]
Winter loss
When only dark- ness tells of winter, while the earth lay bare — an open mud- scarred wound — I long for blue of shadows cast by moon on snow. […]
Phoenix (or not)
When every library is filled, will poets be librarians? Will we take care to not create? If every verse exists, should we let pens run dry, or should we turn […]
