Tears and tickets
Their ticket to leave was their hollow eyes, shrapnel, a toddlers coffin and the black milk served at dusk They left with passports signed by muzzle flames and rape. They […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Windflowers
How the wayward wind is let || to whirl your golden hair When not even moon can move you || I´m a mortal to your gaze You’re its raven — […]
They called it marriage
They never call it sacrifice to enter Y’bhag’s cave. “It’s marriage, honoring your family.” mother priestess said. My real mother cried when she dressed me in the gown of silk […]
Existence
The raindrop clinging to the last of leaves in fall. The sound of snow melting in a moonlit garden. The cotton candy clouds capturing the first pink of dawn. The […]
Of Sea
I am of sea a breaker moored another coming, an end and new beginnings. I am soil of death and birth, the giggle of a toddler in a cemetery. I […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 