Our Laughter
Afterwards. When only veins remain, when the bursting buds of love, the “yes” and tingling taste of flesh has faded, there is silence. Today. Fine lines of sorrow etch your […]
Tag Archives: haiku
On disaster of words
There are words that cannot be reversed; there are sentences that never should be said. Silence is filled with ambiguity and there is always a little bit of hope. Yet […]
Moonlight skis
When I remember father it’s mostly his vicious temper, when the weight of the world ready to cause an outburst, his fits of rage in front of the television. His […]
The softest grass
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” ― Mary Oliver There are partings and […]
On skates
On skates, when carried by the wind across the solid glass of ice you feel like flying. Below you see the pale shadows of rocks against the solid black of […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 