It’s more real than a reality show
I’m more an episode, a past of tense; sedated I am moribund, too slight to fend myself from grips of claws and waves of nausea. Reduced I’m just a passage […]
Cemetery secrets
Just a few weeks ago, before October came to an end, we decided to visit Skogskyrkogården. Built in the first part of the twentieth century, this graveyard south of Stockholm […]
Spicing the stew
Preparations start with choice of lamb; a shank not shy of lard, proud with bones and marrow Then start before your breakfast, cause to stew it tender it needs to […]
Believing is for the night
At night we talked in unicorn believing in the possibility that broken promises or shards of hope can be rectified with glue. But daylight turn the unicorns to donkeys; we […]
Blades of being
Orbed on soot are faces specked and adiposed, draped in wool. clinging broken, bloomed in rosacea, migrants clawing empty soup-bowls. Skeletons on cobblestones not dead. There’s a scent of lilies, […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 