The night of Saint Lucy
Close to winter solstice Night is dressed in worsted wool, wears polished boots, his hands are pale as knives. He smiles in sickles, as he slyly whispers sordid lies and […]
Tag Archives: poetry
Murder of crows
This morning when I passed their tree the crows, the augary birds stayed silent, as if they knew and wouldn’t say like canary birds succumbing to the noxious gas and […]
Cereal killing
My bread-knife’s both benign and sharp, the kindest of my tools unless you’re loaf; the sweet one kneaded with a touch of love and baked to wheatly glutinous perfection, but […]
And it cannot by changed
When end of days are darkly bled to restless sleep and hollow laughter of rotting flesh and living dead When end of days are darkly bled the hope is waning […]
The perfume’s heart
This poem is a potion made from sandalwood and myrrh, and usual stuff like attar from a midnight rose, cinnamon and ambergris, a touch of thyme and rosemary, but underneath […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 