The old ash tree
November. The fog has smothering fingers and my hair is sticky with rain. I choke while opening the urn to spread her ashes… recalling: “Can you see the dryad?”, my […]
Tag Archives: poetry
Utopia is close
Utopia is close my dear, closer than you think, but it’s neither land of plenty nor a constant struggle. It’s neither dream nor for real. It’s neither rain nor sunshine. […]
Money for nothing?
I might leave a larger tip if you bat your lashes and wink me tender. I might pay you well for impish grins, but then again, I might thank you […]
Let me keep my ol’ fedora
I might not be the prophet John and you are not Salome, but could you still let free that seventh veil and spend the night with me. I’ll offer you […]
Leaving in November
You left when leaves were dirty rags, when foliage shrunk to tattered shrouds dangling on the barren boughs. You left when days were dusk and foggy fingers slipped around my […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 