Soil is not my soil
With bleeding gums from scurvy, liced and scabbed we, the sea-sick, found our way to freedom from the belly of the ships and built our life in hardship of the […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Moored with seaweed veins
My feet are lead I walk with weight on sand alone impressing footprints washed away on every wave, It’s foam and kelp. A heart- beat close to last. As once […]
Make the lying cease
Bottles always bottles. Suzy always spent her mornings cleaning. The formica table was sticky from his spilled beer. From the master bedroom she could hear his snores. If only … […]
Not his Valentine
He limps along the streets a heartless man. a being less than hope. a liar to himself, the mineral of man. His liver spotted hands are wrapped around a mug […]
Ghosts of poets lost
His books are ghosts of poets lost the aged librarian is not alone at night when moonlight kisses frost on papers, words grow blood and bone of authors that he […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 