Mars, ashamed
I never saw the sky that evening when Mars was bright. It was overcast and my thoughts were traveling on insignificant spreadsheet trajectories while I twilight-pedaled on my way home […]
Category Archives: haibun
Daylight
I think of spring in terms of daylight more than snow. This morning was the first morning of this year when I saw my shadow while bicycling to work. Sunrise […]
Tasting the fall
The last Monday evening in November. I ponder gratitude. Not from fireworks or bloom, not from listening to birdsong or submerging in rose-perfume of June. In autumn only evergreens and […]
Two of a kind
Is there any sense of soil in the way my chromosomes are curled? Or is the grass and wind expressed in the way I spin my words to syllables? I […]
Mandibles
I still remember the week we moved the classroom to a farm. How we could connect the pictures in the book with the insects that we found. I still remember […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 