He can only speak in poetry
He always thought that bridges could be built as essays (unabridged). That if he listened — after- wards he’d be allowed to speak his mind. “It’s like crossing ridges — […]
Category Archives: the aged librarian
Reading spines
His finger traces spines; blind he reads the gilded letters embossed as braille he’s forming stanzas in his mind. Heart of darkness, beating. Wanting. Craving fleur de mal. But the […]
Plato and dust
On new year’s eve he lets the ancient sunshine in to dust beloved shelves. He sits beside the window drinking tea and watches specks of dust transform from books to […]
The magi left behind
He had heard about a star but had drawn the blinds, cause only candle lights could kiss the pages of his precious books. The aged librarian is deaf to every […]
Untitled (waiting for metaphors)
The aged librarian collects ideals: he’s saving fragments, bulbs and seeds of scribbled shorthand, notes and antidotes. He shuffles words and stanzas tries to set them juxtaposed against his memory […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 