Starlit again
Only in the desert when the moon was new you noticed how savage the west wind blew how bright and how dearly the starlight shone before you lost tense of […]
Category Archives: Real Toads
Unwritten
Even now, on the quivering edge of winter solstice, the nights are not dark enough to shroud or obscure his mania of picking at scabs of every promise unkept. Even […]
Losing to darkness
She picked pomegranates warm from the sun. The stains on her gown, like blood on the bed sheets, have dried. She walked on the glass we had broken. Blood-let and […]
Untitled document
I am untitled I love hiding in fog I am unfogged, loving title of I? I am hiding in love Un-fog-titled I. Am I in fog? Hiding, Led in tit-love. […]
Her story
Dissolving in blood-blossomed verse, her syllables stirred me lightly to passion, swayed me to music of scents, cinnamon, cardamom, sage painting bluebells and forming in me, a heartbeat in sync […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 