Dinner at the beach
Reflected sunlight ends the breath for us a dinner it’s a death as silver fades on muscled scales, to sizzling oil, from fin to tail, with garlic’s dressed She serves […]
Tag Archives: death
How bridges mean an end (or two)
Bridges should unite not part, they should be more beginnings than an end. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, just like it did the day they called: “Is this Joanne […]
A lethal dose of tender bricks
With mar(bled) masks and muted eyes from matrassed walls, the poet calls his voice is nails, his gaze is stone; alone in ash with ink he wails. But our sycophantic […]
My crave is not a butterfly
My crave is hunger hard as granite — carved with sin, it’s dark and cellar-dank My crave is heavy: rotten wood, it’s headstone letters — lichen-filled it’s senseless skin it’s […]
The scar of pearls
Darkly overhead on wings of dead-and-gone to woods where feeble ferns are teeth, and tongues where from the drying throats: a suitors’ voice a praise of clay and stone, demanding […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 