Metamorphosis
In maypoled dreams, she waits with eyes alight for nights of fiddler’s tunes and flowers picked. Just like Pomona let herself from sleight of hand be led, she’s longing to […]
Category Archives: sonnet
The answer is the not to be
When answers come today it’s not to be a thin white duke, a purple prince; a year the music died (again); in haze it’s seen comparing to a summer’s day […]
Merging tributaries
You were my darkness, voids between explosions warmth of marbled flesh, blood in crosshaired wait. Our limbs were floods, a merge of tributaries, trickled beads on skin our wont. Our […]
A man of stone
Between its ticking motion and the stay your wailing lingers were resentment sits in pretentious sports arenas; this display. of pompous yelp with fabricated wits a politician gag in schadenfreude […]
The music of wait
There’s a melody, a voice of myself: a timbre, a tone a faintness in echo of ash; a footstep that’s planted in stealth in the night, a fading finale, a […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 