Faking marterdom
It’s not from gneiss, those rocks but diamonds, gold and emeralds, pretending to be cinder-blocks razor-wired brimstone netherworld. It lends its sheen from bank-notes green, it’s the clogged-up arteries, your […]
Tag Archives: poetry
When days grow longer
When days grow longer moon turns pale And winter fades as sun turns brighter. At dawn the bay is pink with sails. When days grow longer moon turns pale The […]
Me – your tipsy moon
Name your poison: me; dirty elixir and shaken chaser, sour wind or tonic, tipsy moon between your sheets from vesper into dawn. It doesn’t matter cause for me it’s you […]
Both life and cause of death
You’re butterfly effect — causality of songs, the meadowlark of summer days, the footsteps swallowed in mortality, an aftermath from nights and morphine daze. You’re both the timpani and piccola, […]
A bough in six dimensions
I Perched, its shadow bleeds the bough, spring is rising sap and blackbirds waiting. II On the highest bough a caterpillar contemplates the possibility to butterfly. III Bless the tender […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 