Anemic beats and giant posters
The hard-rock of my child- hood came in small cassettes and giant posters, where blood and printed poses seemed much larger than the anemic beat of my cassette recorder. Still […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
The name of sky
How to name the sky? Is it friendly, blue, with smiling clouds or heavy solemn pewter grey or black — a forceful fist of hail and snow? Is it sun […]
A road less traveled
A middle-aged man and his trophy-wife: “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood”, “What?, these are mountains Robert, there’s no wood for miles”. “And sorry, I could not travel both”. […]
Crumbling walls
Parched this soil of me — as in the shadow by this crumbling bulwark only nettles bloom. A soul like mine needs dande- lion strength to sing(e); to sprout and […]
Cleaning the house
Every new beginning clings to the edge, of a pivotal moment of regret; for a sorrow that can’t be measured, but carries in itself a weight, like the sickly smell […]
