Sweet bastard
You’re banned from these, my shores, sweet bastard if you ever dare again, to snake your way into my bed I’ll pierce you, have you nailed, harpooned, and leave your […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
The dragonfly and I
Below the willow’s bough we hid from warmth, a dragonfly and I. I whispered words, and danced amid the leaves with emeralds as eyes, that day she lulled me softly […]
Vinyl seats in summer
Once, when days were passed in backseat view of spruces, boughs bending darkly over gravel roads, The sun became a stroboscope sharply glimpsed through pines. Car-seat vinyl mock-weave patterns imprinted […]
Firecrackered
Once – in sparks a firecracker hissed a bit, before I spread- sheeted my life and numbed defused confused. Today it’s Open Link Night at dVerse hosted by Grace. Bring […]
A cruel month
February is cruel, but nowadays it’s from lack of light and not from snow or ice. “Here was once a bridge”, Jack points at the rotting stumps extruding through fermenting […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 