Lasse Söderberg: A part of America
They are watching us in their field glasses.
We are watching them in our field glasses.
December 20, 2022 · 2 Comments
Lasse Söderberg: The dead children in the Tajo River
They have left the city
and their blind games
under the white bone of the sun
November 20, 2022 · 4 Comments
Lasse Söderberg: The sky over Fresnes
All winter I have walked
on empty streets and thought that the sky
looked like a damp rag that someone
desperately presses to a mouth
October 23, 2022 · 2 Comments
Lasse Söderberg: For Tomas Tranströmer
You know the broken history of things,
the alchemy of stones, a world masked
in the blind light of God.
September 25, 2022 · 2 Comments
