Foghorns
I remember mornings waking to the sound of foghorns; as if the harbor was my room or maybe me extending to their calls. I remember reaching for the moon or […]
Category Archives: free verse
Leaving and returning
A journey is much more the time it takes preparing, and the time when memory becomes another dream to leave again. A journey is to seek for silence just like […]
Apocalypse
Weired the river’s low (1) it’s flow our hunger (2) wind blown,owned; (3) the soil is scorched (4) from carbon torched. (5) A weir is used to dam the water […]
I care for carvings
I cannot count each layer laid, on the back of bark, from rise of sap, for every year a ring for every spring I’ve grown. I have seen the aged […]
Ghosts of green
Spring me, dance me melt me twist-skip, curl in grins. Balloon a shimmer spilled from giggle-whispers sparked in jars of rose-dawn clouds. Come light — you scarlet cue; breeze me […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 