Cleaning the house
Every new beginning clings to the edge, of a pivotal moment of regret; for a sorrow that can’t be measured, but carries in itself a weight, like the sickly smell […]
Category Archives: Real Toads
Remember green
Forced by famine on green green grass, an island cemetery infested by potato fungi on waves of hunger migrants came, to settle, to carve another bit of promised land to […]
Childhood
Dear Childhood, I know you always run beside me, barefoot, pointing at another flower, asking what it’s called. There are times, I miss that courage that I had to ask, […]
Let the serpent rule
Your world of ash and charcoal where only winners sparkle is dark and patriarchal your heart is cold as marble Your sword is dull and blemished with lies you set […]
After the lie’s been told
behind curtains of rain — another lie’s been told; afterwards it’s strange how much a void can weigh when left alone afterwards in suffocating sense of loss — the sound […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 