A keen edge
On the precipice of duskonly the librarian can see the keen edgeof lost luciditybecause the nightis infinite, insistentinsatiable, a brutedevouring sanity and sensescribbling wacky verses on the bedroom walls. That’s why the […]
Tag Archives: poetry
Becoming
Remembering awakening in my bed, the grownups talking in the living room outside my room. My blue-walled bed was open on one side so I could have tiptoed out to […]
Breeze
The breeze turning warm;leashed to the wolf-clouds of spring she lustfully broke our snowman to mush;once in the frost he was a sentinel-tallan icicle-pride of the garden,a man made of winter and snow;but […]
Scent of snow
How can you name the scent of snow or the gentle kiss of frost? How can you set the sounds of dusk to music when it tastes of tears? How […]
The last dance & afterward
When the final song has trickled gently through the halls your hand is resting on my chest, my breath is nesting with your hair; I wonder how tonight may end […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 