Our absence absolves us

The darkened balcony
lights up in butterflies,
gathering in dreams of
honey at the bottom
of the sky

Everything is bathed
in a peace without edge
The mirror on the door
suspends the image
of our world
Our tracks hold us:
a hat, trousers, a dress
The wine not drunk for hours
shines in the glasses

Our absence absolves us
from all sins
leaving room for
what is outside the door
beyond the mirror
without closing our eyes
We,  like doves flying off
on fast wings of night



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Paperback Is Available! — The Stories In Between – River Dixon

My new poetry collection is now available in paperback. Click here to order. eBook is also available for pre-order for just .99 cents! Click here for that. Click the above image to go to my Amazon author page and check out all of my books. For my friends outside of the US, simply go to […]

via Paperback Is Available! — The Stories In Between

Munich in Brittany

Munich in Brittany
The moon every night
speaks of war, the broken
decor of a world without
my homeland, fatherland
destroyed, the bluest eyes
of God, weeping

and tomorrow the rain
will come, the curtain falling
and every man’s heart will
swell into flame, the moon a
woman who leaves and leaves
each man alone



She chained him in a cave,
She made a sign on the door;
The virgin forgot the light
And the key fell into the sea.

She waited for the summer days:
She waited more than eternities,
She waited for the winter days;
combing her hair while waiting

The Men of Light remembered her.
Missing her, they went looking,
When they found Her,
They slipped between the stones
And used rockets to light up pebbles
on the path leading to Her.

One evening a Man passes by,
He does not understand Her light
Nor it’s clarity and so he
dared not approach ..

He thinks She’s a strange sign,
He believes that She might be
a source of gold, then again
He thinks She plays
a foolish angelic game
He turns away
and goes on again …

Meeting her over and over..
Always as a passerby.




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Sie liebten sich beide

I came from the source of joy
I entered the source of night
I walked across hard gravels
until I reached the green meadows

I carry with me inside my heart
mountains ringing out concerts
Nests of love shaded inside cervices
I come from the Light sources
of joy, the bubbling springs of joy
walking fast and without sway;

Towards the work of God, towards
the winter sun, toward the
spreading moor, towards the
high brooms and hedges, towards
the fresh rocks, towards the shadow
of oaks and towards him who waits
I have come to love


sharp as a razor, soft as a prayer

He forgot his name long ago
He sleeps with his rifle,
He used to drink to forget

Sharp as a razor and soft as a prayer
Of all the humiliated men on earth
the passersby avoid this one’s shadows
He wakes every day in pain, his
skin burns, his eyes hurt, his pulse races..
The white man rising up to call
down his savage God from the heavens.


She sips rainlight

The rainbow always ready
always shining near
dazzling the rooftops, soft
rays of rain falling down
She sings in a low voice
humming while sewing

She sings the immense expanse
she sings to bring forth a vague
yet flowered future, and

His eyes are smiling, hands on hips
he watches from his distance
the woman he will make his own

She believes in her romance,
She believes in beauty,
She believes in harmony,
She feels infinite,
She sips the rainlight with
trembling lips

Because his eyes are always on
her from the distance
his eyes are always smiling

Sweet and full of the impossible,
She returns from work.
Lost and dreaming while walking
Inside her invisible music.




the times before reason

A star in the Temple of
the Clouds firing open holes
inside all the skies;
It’s the bloody dawn of times
the times before reason,
Like a dream living inside
the burning skies, the
fetal gods are all sleeping
waiting for the beginning, that
moment when past and future
meet immobile, which is the
dream and which is real?

I’m alone, the first Woman
hopping like a grasshopper
from step to step across mountains
the seas offering up my reflection,
golden as I run; I run with my
mouth open, eating up the dry stars
the thorns of the sun pierce my
side vibrating bells within me clang.
My ribs are sharpened on
the dreams of God.