Vanitas
I see in bones and marrow, broken skulls and crimson ink on parchment scribbled: words in vain repeated songs of harrow; cull of reaper: blood on pillow, chest that hurts. […]
Category Archives: sonnet
Pretending we can hear the song
Our song was not of crickets nor of strings it was more in depth of water, timpanies of summer thunderstorms, herons, crows. We neither burned nor froze, yet with fevered […]
Diplomacy
With passion you might argue yes or no or claim the world is either black or white. With voices raised we’re screaming “I am right” and we forget the “why” […]
To find what’s sought
In frantic summer urge, insane with bloom when teared in drizzle, hand in hand we meet this evening, kissed in tangerine, not gloom your hair is wilderness, your eyes not […]
Being marbled
His hands were worst, pretending softness gently just before he formed my ribs. At least the rocks were honest, my womb of sorts, the secret script of being marbled me, […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 