Spell him sick
Wave my wand, to play him tricks, wither prick and make him sick. Let him puke and spook him stiff, Wave my wand, my heart is black Then burn his […]
Category Archives: Real Toads
Perfume of you
You are scent of moss-rose, amber, dew a starlit sky, the daisy meadow late in June. You are sense of thunder, the wind that blew a bashful whiff of lavender […]
Madly
The moon is neither trash nor lady; she just borrows light, she’s the mirror both of daylight gold and what is shady. She’s both silence and the howls of wolves; […]
The library remains insane
When first entering the library, with your shadow darkly following behind, you walk up to the counter and ask the aged librarian (who’s wise to understand to understand carved in […]
My steed of steel
From shipyard summer wages I got myself a horse. a soldered steed of tapered steel with gears to match my strength A steed for youthful eagerness, a steed in red […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 