Winged jealousy
Sparrow If I were you, with wingspan wide to let me leave this soil and sail on winds, and watch them from above, tethered, tied, antmen lacking visions blue enough […]
Category Archives: Real Toads
Monday Mourning
Sing me a hymn for the weekend just passed, Sing me a blues for the mourning of Mondays, for dusk and rain in October Sing me a dirge, for the […]
Library silence
The library sometimes pretends it’s water and ocean, with tempestuous phrases pouring from pages forming rivers, wrestling with wobble of waves in the turbulent bay, where the lighthouse is darker […]
May Grey turn into pink
Gray if you may the morning today when it’s Monday is bleak, remember to keep your nose on the grindstone; push forward, deliver and maybe by Friday it’s turned into […]
Butter on my fingers being silent
I remember mostly mornings since my grandma didn’t like to cook, the kitchen was the place for endless breakfasts. A room where aunts and uncles sat in morning-gowns while talking, […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 