How confidence can crumble
I miss the days when girls would giggle in my presence as I flushed, embarrassed; I miss how my intestines wriggled; when mortified I searched. for pimples, or an open […]
Category Archives: dVerse
eight one one
A room without books is like a body without a soul. Cicero The aged librarian have ceased to shave — his beard’s another shade of grey and when he walks […]
We were like houses
My past in the suburban housing; mushroomed from the meadows in the early sixties; houses side by side, stately rows with playground streets; at first the same, but after fifty […]
Moored with seaweed veins
My feet are lead I walk with weight on sand alone impressing footprints washed away on every wave, It’s foam and kelp. A heart- beat close to last. As once […]
Not his Valentine
He limps along the streets a heartless man. a being less than hope. a liar to himself, the mineral of man. His liver spotted hands are wrapped around a mug […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 