Why still ambiguous?
As branches bends for desert winds, close to breaking, and the weight of what I’ve said is slightly less than my mute retort inside. They send me feathers white of […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Water trapped in bogs
Her sentences where rivers once, meandering through marshlands, building into lakes and rushing rapids, heading for the sea. “Why was I never told, that mother’s dead?” She’s angry once again, […]
In praise of a thieving magpie
He stole the cheese to free the birds the four and twenty waiting Thieving magpie makes their day see prisoners escaping. The king was snoring in his bed, his breakfast […]
How to face the wind
I still recall that December night, down by the pier: your body pressed; a weight against my boyish chest. Harbor waves were pounding granite piers your leg a nestling seeking […]
Whispers of the timber
Though dead, these grains of wood, as skeins unfold, with hands as kites, in prayer wave; a wind of words, a wish across the plains, “Please save the world from […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 