Birth pains
The pains I had brought when breaking the bonds, you had built with your uterus-glow, not once but over and over, (as if we’d preserved an umbilical bond to slice […]
Tag Archives: death
Dead leaves
Sometimes I dream of of being carcass, corpse, remains Sometimes I dream of dancing with the dead. Sometimes I dream of blood and bones; decay and rot; of being none […]
Fear of silence
Between each breath there is still- ness as from death; a gentle kiss of feathers falling. As a partridge might pretend it’s wounded to protect its chicks, I listen to […]
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 […]
Whenever possible, keep it simple (like a coffin-nail)
There’s nothing quite as simple as a coffin-nail. A dead unwanted piece inert and sharp that does its job encasing what was once the life the moving limbs, the sins. […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 