Vistor in worsted wool
At times the ghost of past mistakes comes late at night to visit; he whispers to remind me: about the paths I should have chosen; about the things I’ve said […]
Category Archives: free verse
Counting ribs
Fleshed on bone and dressed in charcoal cloth he’s still more neolith in awe of winter solstice lying sleepless listening to lightlessness of night or a lovesick chimpanzee, in how […]
Spoon-feeding mother
when parting came slowly as words you forgot or when you were lost we thought we had time to listen to music to read or to dine we never could […]
Jazz with the moss
Where trees jazz with wind so gently to magic of moss at summernight tarn; there I meet you at midnight and run my hands through gold of your hair. Come […]
Down at the club
Down at the club the drums beat jazz ba-bam ba-bam-bam-boo to taps of of hundred feet and humming sax: while with a tearful wail the trumpet hails our night of […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 