Incense of us
The way you sway and muslin cling on hips is sweet, infatuating inducing incubus insanity Come love succumb to me! Come succubus! In sense of scent (not innocent) we’re more […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Metamorphosis
In maypoled dreams, she waits with eyes alight for nights of fiddler’s tunes and flowers picked. Just like Pomona let herself from sleight of hand be led, she’s longing to […]
Cherry makebelief
This cruel morning late in April when winter’s jaws gnaw flesh. as concrete morning April winds hard as tarmac, never fresh slips underneath his coat. On hurried Friday footsteps, spreadsheet […]
A metaphor of self
I’m a metaphor, an oxymoronic breath of science dressed in words. I wield veneer (a mask) of sense my skin a dress for wounds. I love my life but speak […]
In the alley behind
When you talk about our love with meth-mouth-smile, it’s like finding a garbage bag floating in the stagnant pools behind forsaken factories, and see a femur shape that cling to […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 