False Idol
Edmond walked for miles through the mud to reach the store. He’d heard a rumor of midnight-deliveries of Spam and Toilet-Paper. It had been raining for a fortnight which had […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Dying sea
A sailor woke and listened for the speech of crushing crests; of wind and waves’ unrest but it was eerie silent, dead as on the beach a shroud of death […]
Musca Domestica
I came home as usual after work and Lily was gone. Her absence struck me like a wrecking ball. The air inside was bachelor-stale and my mouth filled with bile. […]
My wonderful life
You are the owl-shadowed wolf- hour dreaming of dust-moths dancing in afternoon sunshine. the ballad barely remembered but happily hummed in the evening shower In the dusk and at dawn, […]
Minor jerk
I wasn’t welcome ogling never asked but still my hands snaked to places of tantalizing softness in unsolicited groping and as we danced I pressed my leg between her thighs […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 