The elephant graveyard
There is a place where it’s said that elephants retreat in solitude to die. When the aging matriarch cannot lead or follow, and her daughters know the way, a day […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
In a ramschackle pub by the dock
The foghorn wailed, when at the bar through scurvy teeth a sailor hissed and slammed his fist. “Tonight I’m pissed” the room went silent, barmaid jarred remembered nights before the […]
How the west was won
It wasn’t with your guns the west was won, it was the concept that our soil was owned, it could be fenced, divided, never shared. But buffalo need water, need […]
What heaven is
Have you ever felt how cold and damp and filled with dread a summer cloud can be inside? Or… Have you ever tried to play a harp and felt how […]
The girl from yonder yore
From edge of woods she came in trance a girl I’ve never seen before. On solstice day I asked to dance that girl from yonder yore. When twilight’s close to […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 