It’s not the falling
If ever caught in whirls of winds; twisting, turning dancing you insane, be sure, be warned beware: that when you land to check for ruby-slippered feet of witches squashed. Cause, […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Waiting for a coup de grace
It’s not incinerated heat or ash but insincerity and ice, when dullness of serrated blades cut closer to a beating heart, than scimitars of death. My fear is not for […]
Three’s a crowd
Three’s what forms a crowd, it’s said unwanted one’s unpaired from two, You’ve never seen a threesomed bed and marriage vows can work as glue It’s making sense to close […]
The killer filaments
Fragments means, when after- wards interpreted, pieced together, much like swirls of fingerprints or helices, the souls of past still buried in our cells. We try to place ourselves in […]
Sevenling: (I see)
I see through fingered shadows wicked flames and dames, a sailor-lady (kelp in hair) a bad to be, (maybe) if not the bloom and laughter, and your famous hands (smaller […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 