Simplicity of love
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz, or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Stay the night or …
“You want to stay the night, or … ?” I recalled the motel-manager’s question. What else than staying? There was a mirror above the king size bed, and there were […]
A crave once carved
A crave once carved on polished gneiss with lips and hips you met my piercing spear; your moan reverbs in rock, a memory embracing we are locked, perhaps in vice […]
You smelled of wind
I hear the waves contained in shell-shocked-grey in calcite walls, concrete a smothered voice. “You can never catch me” your hair was wings you smelled of wind. You were fading […]
Beneath the gray tree
Bared, its branches dance October skeletal to chthonic music, crush of leaves beneath, an oak, its limbs a somber filigree and rooks above in plumage clerical. With wreath in hand […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 