Do Actions Really Speak Louder Than Words? If So, My Actions Are To Put Pen To Paper, To Share, To Express

Shave my head And cover me in a Black robe With a large hood So I can hide In the darkness Of my presence

And look me in My shadow eyes My face all that You can see So you must know Me by the magic Of my essence

I have no body You can feel My fluidity In the night sky And cherish My full moons And my crescents

Christmas to me is a quiet warmth Background music, spicy candles, My favorite blanket at home.

A comfortable kinship with family, A respite in celebrating alone.

I untangle with the string lights, A gentle glow I feel deep in my bones.

Christmas is a gift I unwrap slowly, With delicate hands and a softer tone, These silent nights are all my own.

I am not a fly on your wall I am an angel with wings I watch you sleeping in your bed Together Then cover you in my feathers

I am not a ghost in your house I am a creature in the sky That can never fly away from you But devour I taste you in the darkest hour

The wings came bleeding out my back Carving open hardened scars The air returning to my lungs I am awake In slumber I am yours to take

I felt creation in my mind Maybe as a mother giving birth Horrible, painful, terrifying But oh, what it was worth

I felt creation in my mind As a seedling start to sprout Small at first then suddenly It all came shooting out

I felt creation in my mind When I was cold and numb But it felt wrong and ugly And my voice felt small and dumb

There was creation in my mind When I first made myself And broke away from cogs and wheels To be other, something else

Creation knocked upon my mind And it begged me to be heard When I shoved it away It helped me find the words

I felt creation in my heart When I first looked upon those eyes It was never in my head When I needed to be wise

I learned how to sing So I could talk to the birds They always listen to me Even if they don't know the words

I learned how to bark So I could talk to the trees They know all about you All about you and me

I've learned to be quiet To be still in my mind To feel the earth turn As the world was designed

He gathers pennies to spend at the store, Lowering his voice, he looks down at the floor And says, “If I tell you, you won’t love me anymore.”

It’s days like these that we don’t speak As much As we used to, Instead in a language of knees weak And such As lovers do.

He counts the change but hates the word. “So many pennies,” he remarks, “it’s absurd.” He speaks so that his thoughts go unheard.

At the end of the day he has my heart Still, Always, to keep. And I would carry him if he fell apart Until We went to sleep.

We’ve stayed like this for the better part of a year And he worries as the end of December draws near That he might blow away and we won’t be here.

You come into the room Hair damp and spiked From the bathwater The towel around you Such a stark white In contrast to the ink That covers your body

You look at me with Those fierce, devouring Spanish eyes, te amo I did not believe until Now but you are my love Here, at first sight Keep me in this room With our paint and canvas Who is the artist and Who is the muse?

I forget myself as We ride through nights That never really end The moon ever brighter Warning us to stop We do not listen

Be done, untouch me I knew I would end up In your bed again, Again with your radiance Your harsh light Your brilliant mind That races ever forward With no finish line

I vanished and you Still search for me Your low voice like a Home, like a tempting Warmth, maybe it is The memories you want

You are the active Volcano I build a house Upon, and you erupted And we were burned away Ending the way we Began, so suddenly En ardiente deseo Nothing more than fire

The snow fell on the earth Drew its blanket over the ground It brought with it the cold bite And I felt it all around

Winter sang its song of sleep As it darkened the skies But who sings for those animals Who never reopen their eyes?

Frost colored my hands Despite the fire in my heart I mourned in my blues and blacks Watching the life depart

In the empty orchard Among the crisp apples And softer pears, Brown and green, The apples red and yellow, Losing their grip On their branches In the hour before dark Where no bonfires burn A quiet that is alone, mine

The air is full of Ragweed and dying grass, The sweet scent of Fallen fruits sinking Into the bed of the earth, Feasts for wriggling worms Before the frost comes Early in the morning, I am here with the last Of the colors of trees

Sheep getting sleepy, Too sleepy to count them Their sounds replaced by The last croaking frogs, The lingering buzzing of Wings on insects, Before they hibernate In frozen lakes Before the sun falls Further behind the barn

Muse, I am holding on to you It is not desperate or clingy I hold you gently, with room to move Or without touching you at all

Your beautiful mind inspires me The way you see the world The convictions you hold I am mesmerized, captivated

I love you, it is obvious, so obvious I can't let go, I have tried Muse, I have tried and failed Over and over and over

All I can do is write you and keep you Do you mind? Are you upset? Tell me it is okay, these feelings I worry my pen is a sword to you