Birdsong
From Axis by Octavio Paz The way you’re caressing my earlobe with kittenlike tongue and seeking in tickle of sense to burn me with sun of precision incision in touch, […]
Category Archives: golden shovel
Looking at tea-leaves
From Pablo Neruda Sonnet 17 You’re not a mirror where reflected, I can affirm myself. You are not a watercolored love or honeysuckle dusk, never soft as dew; but you […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 