Wormhole to Eden
“The stars look different today” you gasped and wrapped your hungry thighs around my waist; “I think we passed its furthest edge”; I graced your lips; unzipped your silver suit; […]
Tag Archives: sonnet
Sleeping with death
When darkness tiptoed through our streets, we shut the windows, blocked the doors before they knocked. “This night is death”, you cried, “it stabs my gut”. We listened to the […]
Black and blacker
When darkness tiptoed through our streets, we shut the windows, blocked the doors before they knocked. “This night is death”, you cried, “it stabs my gut”. We listened to the […]
Loneliness is not a void
Your loneliness is not a weightless void it’s not the darkness of a hollowed heart. Your loneliness is lead and plans destroyed, it’s blood and bones, the undertaker’s cart. Your […]
Sonnet for a passing blindness
You are sunshine and the drizzle in November frost in orchards promising a later harvest. You are flowing rivers and the dancing fog at dawn, valleys mountains, you are riddle […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 