While weeding my garden
The way they weave and weed their words around conspiring, eating truth. Does it matter only how a lie is told? Can we only paint the world in black? Have […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
A trip to the hardware store
Monica shuddered; night had been brisk and looking out she couldn’t quite determine if the window ice-bloom was on the outside or not. Numbed, she realized that she craved for […]
Outhouse scent
A scent of outhouse brings me back to leisured days of youth, to sunwarm gneiss as smooth as ice beneath my bare feet running for seclusion. Its sense is not […]
Undine
She shimmered hair a halo, cheeks are rosed with breeze with bubbled grin in giggled dance to lull, to melt and make my heart skip beats. In waltz and twist […]
Afterwards the dreams have changed
Afterwards – when only thorns remain when leaves have left and sap been sucked. With fingers pricked, you still recall, perfumed the summer rose of youth. Before the withered rot […]
