You can call me Al
Before too late, (a first for me) I’m out too see (a)live an aged musician. Tinsel-eyed I wait to call you Al. while people buzz, still crazy after all these […]
Category Archives: free verse
Yours is my inquest
Fusing for tempests — are you waiting — are you baiting me for sparks? Am I excused — for eardrums I’ve bruised — for willows and wind — for sorrow […]
A tale of (k)nights
This tale is inked in white: a pause, a silent suite for paws and tail, a breath of barrow-wights. as sweet as apples-pie. before a peal of kirk-bells disturb your […]
October is a teacher
October is a teacher; a spinster sometimes stern, but she still consoles the silent student with her wind of words. October is a teacher who dyes her hair with henna, […]
October
October is a forgotten pendant, the kind you find in junk-shop trinket boxes, a diamond sleeping with the rhinestones, the gold pretending to be brass, an out of fashion gem. […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 