Candlemass
Halfway into the nascent light I noticed, on my morning walk, a pre-sunrise twilight making my wood-trek viable. I walked to the sound of cold snow squeaking underneath my feet. […]
Claiming your virtue
Who can claim to be virtuouswithout feeling some pride? Who cannot be cravingfor the possessions of others? Who can be righteouswithout screaming in wrath? Who can ask for othersto pick […]
Unprocessed
I dream darkly,like that bile eruptingunprocessedafter eating too much curry,my dreams are built frombitterness of lingering regretsfrom fermented vindicationsremaining still unclaimed. My dreams are draperiesit’s soot and ashmy shroud prepared,My […]
Too much
Once, when younger trying …in vainspeaking to girls;I stumbled on syllablesand couldn’t make sense,stitching intentionsinto sentenceswithout tripping on words. Only much laterI aged and was trainedinto tellingand tried to catch […]
Scribbled in the Snow
It shines in the garden,in the white foliage of the chestnut tree,in the brim of my father’s hatas he walks on the gravel.Mark Strand, The Garden Midday today, it started […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 