The devoted monk of Atlantis
The zealous crowd arrived, ten minutes to midnight to burn the scrolls they blamed for rising tides, for brine and water flooding lower levels of Atlantis. The librarian tried in […]
Category Archives: Real Toads
Come yet again
You, my lover of leaving, moonchild, woman of rainbow, it doesn’t matter, like a window, closed can be opened. Moon sickle waxing, rain showers, sound of your footfalls; the wind […]
Learning from students
In the recess deep in his chest he carries not the words of librarians passed, but the tantrums of toddlers, his childhood; In the folds of his bathrobe; not hidden […]
What is the wind?
When I met her barely awake in her wheelchair — she asked me: “What is the wind?” I looked at her hands and noticed how small they’ve become — Once […]
The year of Chernobyl
I remember the the year of Chernobyl; the silent drizzle glazing my skin, how the spring seemed greyer, the greenery sick. I remember the year of Chernobyl how mushrooms and […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 