My knack
I wasn’t really doomed, didn’t have the knack, to solder, disassemble or to build a boat I wasn’t doomed to be an engineer until I slipped, and slide ruled into […]
Category Archives: Real Toads
Blood and keyboards
Let’s feast on words, pretend it’s hunger or symphony as wheels on wet tarmac. Let’s syllable — reflect on undulation of grass in motion, or patient toads in waiting. Let’s […]
Jewels in the dark
The sparkle in my eyes — were like jewels wildy cold. I was the mineral, the rules that turned your alabaster into putty for my hands. I fell in love […]
Bed sheet and nooses
Not snooze no muse but poetry of bed sheet tangled wet with sweat. I’m mangled waylaid by the thoughts of nooses, snakes of fate and us. I’m yet awake no […]
Pripyat, Ukraine
Footfalls groaning gravel crushed; moan of wind and crazy doors… In spring the dandelions break through crumbling bricks as mortar dust to death. Where once were windows, stares the empty […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 