The time has come
It takes a kid to see that emperors wear clothes paid for with the blood of other kids. Shame on me; shame on you on every wimp who failed to […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
A letter from my bed
Dear Midnight, I write to you from bed; a special place of sweat and twisted bedsheets, nested deep between awake and dreams. I know you’re busy spreading sand on others […]
Learning how to speak
At thirteen I almost killed another boy. If I’d been at school I’d been expelled and sent to juvie. For me it meant a slap on the wrist from coach […]
When I met her again
This hard cold marble in the deepest pit of my stomach, this acerbic stir of stale beer and last night’s curry this white of knuckles, nails that bites my flesh, […]
Augury birds
Once when hours could be wasted, when seconds were not precious, I could listen to the blackbirds in the middle of a step. I could stop and smile, while running […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 