When the Bird is playing
Go play it slowly Charlie play it higher, play with birds, play it easy play it snarly for you it’s not been hard to quiver quavers, jam the night till […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Butter on my fingers being silent
I remember mostly mornings since my grandma didn’t like to cook, the kitchen was the place for endless breakfasts. A room where aunts and uncles sat in morning-gowns while talking, […]
Closing time
Chef Dubois stood on a chair addressing his crew. The kitchen-noise subsided as he greeted them all; from sous-chef to hostess, from water-boy to waitress. His team; exhausted, longing for […]
Still life with shoes
Sometimes — swimming in the silent slur of seconds, strained and stretched, knowing you’d be late, I hate to later say, it will be worth this agony when you kiss […]
Counting spider-legs
I had to fight to find my place, in my war for life, I had to claim a cozy cot inside this sheltered uterus carved in fissured gneis, and dig […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 