Burning my mementos
She sold seashells by the seashore.Once. Now mementos for my fingertips, boxed and sorted each telling a story. I remember her windblown hair. I recall the sand between my toes. […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
A tale of (k)nights
This tale is inked in white: a pause, a silent suite for paws and tail, a breath of barrow-wights. as sweet as apples-pie. before a peal of kirk-bells disturb your […]
Cityscape anatomy
The city’s built from bones and cartilage; the foundation of its skyline are constipated guts; the soil is saturated with our blood. The city is a beast. When I window-shop […]
October is a teacher
October is a teacher; a spinster sometimes stern, but she still consoles the silent student with her wind of words. October is a teacher who dyes her hair with henna, […]
October
October is a forgotten pendant, the kind you find in junk-shop trinket boxes, a diamond sleeping with the rhinestones, the gold pretending to be brass, an out of fashion gem. […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 