Nightshade whispers
Is it lunacy — this slow decay of night? As nightshade whispers and how moths commit its suicide when flying close to light… A laughter fills my abdomen with rot […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
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 […]
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 […]
