Lust for blood
The way it looks, in snow with paws between a baby and a bear, brushed with tail, from scattered snow on crust, not melted yet. I know she crossed our […]
Tag Archives: poet
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 […]
Your icicles
“Let’s mend the bridges – make it as before”, it’s said, it’s out and seconds sway; your eyes suspicious; silence spilled upon the floor in whisper as of ghosts, a […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 