Silencing the Steinway
Silence is pregnant with anticipation. Audience is waiting, bowstring tense, we are sold out tonight. The spotlight’s playing on the velvet curtain. Waiting, I’m prepared, my denture polished to ivory […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Being marbled
His hands were worst, pretending softness gently just before he formed my ribs. At least the rocks were honest, my womb of sorts, the secret script of being marbled me, […]
Scapegoat
From somewhere, murmurations, secrets spilled as arson, from lips unsealed to ears synapsed decoded into half-lies. Spreading dread and raging through undergrowth, a backdraft pestilence of hate, turned conclusions, of […]
High as a kite
Roses are red and violets are blue but world is much brighter sniffing my glue If London bridge come falling down I might have imagined smoking the brown. Star light, […]
Feed the sparrows
Come, tie a fragrant wreath of roses, and let its perfume fill our noses. Then dance me dizzy, light the pyres Let’s fill this graveyard with desire. Come, wrap me […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 