Porcupine and fi(e)n
The porcupine’s a creature creased a spin of pins It’s a preacher’s histrionic fein of flair, it’s (s)licks of chair. Still it’s fine this phoenix-fix from ash to his my […]
Tag Archives: poetry
This side’s no longer wild
Belied and taken, brought to underbelly alleys wild enough to see the free of stairwayed heavens Holly’s sullied, desecrated, flailing shaven failing on the wilder side of falling. Darlinged, one […]
Clara
Cattle die, kinsmen die you yourself die; I know one thing which never dies: the judgment of a dead (wo)man’s life. Hávamál Maybe it’s the fact I’m dead that modified […]
Eight views of fall
I. Gathering of clouds: dusk being the dark denominator of autumn equinox and sheets of rain. II. Not even the raven can cease to shiver underneath the shadows from a […]
Plumage of words
Words are sometimes pillowed, of eiderdown, uttered softly lulla- bying for an almost drowning. At other times they billow, soar on feathered wings, brave you into boldness asking for a […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 