Monday mourning
I lament the evils of the world wishing peace instead of war and seek to guide us all to something better… yet, I dress myself in a kind of kindness […]
Category Archives: Real Toads
Midnight walking
Her path across the garden is from moonlight moth-winged; barefoot-firm she’s neither fragile nor she’s fleeing, she’s only searching luminescence for her flaming flesh. She knows his scent of cinnamon […]
Black Carnation
This morning is a black carnation; slightly bent it’s dying in the January drizzle. I’m tossed and turned at the mercy of the cruel clouds and have to shawl myself […]
For my casas and callies
O my amies, elevens of dollars and dimes when did we last have an oro to spend on corrosion of chicks, O lemon and lime. My manos and braces are […]
Paradise Lost
The dragon morning broke in glow of tangerine and tongues, in flares ensnaring trees with scorch and woe. We barely saw the smoke for air as clear as lies before […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 