This is not a love story
Sometimes the moon decides to walk the streets, pretending she’s a hooker. Once I watched her starstruck, hips a-swaying pulling tricks on astronauts; her skimpy dress kept slipping up her […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Fade in fall
The way in fall what leaves becomes your urge to stay. It briefly fireworks, in yellow, crimson, blood, before it fades. It’s like that postcard sent from Côte d’Azur, apologizing […]
Another megafauna
Once it swayed with serpent tongue in search of moths, the giant sloth, with nothing more to offer than to slowly be a lunchtime snack for yet an aging smilodon, […]
U-turns
Caged. I’m Bell-jarred, barely moving through periphery. I’m sighs behind the window, blur of highway signs and through broken mileage diesel,rust and rain I search for you. Returning. Yet — […]
Us is one
A sugar rush of touch as butter- flies this rub of you, a wetness — cadence skin to skin this morning breath to chest. I weave my fingers with your […]
