Just like the birds
Below, he’s tethered by confusion of my walls, that beast is lost to the intricacy of labyrinths. I hold his secret and for this I’m kept imprisoned here. The seaways […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
The secrets of the bees
A hiss of vapor safely let released, the oil on sprockets, and the cushioned walls you keep for words that’s hurled in anger, faults unmentioned and your strength to quench […]
A pink umbrella – haibun for dVerse
His grizzled hair is wet and seated on the sidewalk he observes how pedestrians try to look the other way. His skin, is spotty leather and his sunken rib cage […]
The moon’s an onion
The moon’s an onion, sun’s a pear as sweet as gold but silver-sharp the bitter night consists of tears. Yet daylight bring me teeth of sharks it’s cruel scimitars, it’s […]
Friendship with cards
Her cheeks were blossoms pink from turns of friendly cards. Before I turned the fool for sequins laid, I drew death (as if mortality was nothing more than life) Counting […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 