November love

Björn Rudbergs writings

I carve the dusk with broken nails
I claw at lack of light, I cry
between my death and fever dreams
with soil in soul and ash to blaze
in embers of regrets, I wake
entangled in my bed-sheets-shroud,
November comes, my bed, my grave
to sounds of shovels as 
my mouth is filling up with sand.

From deeper shadows shines
the charcoal cinder of her lidless eyes
November reeks of mud and rot,
still, I am forced inside her grasp.

Peinture 324 x 181 cm, 17 novembre 2008 by Pierre Soulages

Today I host dVerse live at 8 PM CET (3 PM EST) and we will be live and read our poem to the open mic,

October 29, 2020

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