Soul of the underground
Underneath my fingernails a promise caught: for saplings,seeds and bulbs for growths and green for spring for what I dug in fall: A growth from soil (decay and death) form […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Themselves alone
Despite the fact that Echo was the perfect mirror of her lovely voice, singing praise, Narcissus only fell in love with mirrors that could echo pictures of himself. And so […]
Echo please
Call me back my love. Oh please come please me with an echo. When I whisper — come whisper back. Please. please me with your echo. But if I’m silent […]
Follow your dreams
My dreams are thieves, strange and strained they trespass, sneak on plimsoll soles at night. My dreams are knives and satin, a morning sated, they are odd solutions infinitely non-convergent. […]
Shadows in the library
There are moments when he talks to shadows. He knows they care and never interrupt to leave him like a light might do. The moon, the sun even candles shine […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 