A night with demons
When critters claw and cry at midnight; moans for me. I’m tethered tight; I tremble for delight of daring devils, and zesty zombies zucking In vain a vampire veins me, […]
Category Archives: Real Toads
Sleepless in October
it’s not rain nor persistent wind — autumn’s weight is darkness penetrating skin and veins turning blood to stone dressed in shroud of moss and bracken somber songs from corpse […]
Being family
We’ll chain your hopes to outpoured milk and burn your laughter with small disasters. Being mother means to be smothered with silk Because you’re our slave and we are masters. […]
The river is complicit
She had been walking by the banks and talked to sailors; in the taverns there were whispers and we made millstones out of rumors even long before the night when […]
Is the butterfly to blame?
Can you blame the butterfly for fluttering? For being butterfly? Can you charge it for the hurricanes? In Puerto Rico the butterflies have drowned. In Houston all the pupae have […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 