writer | écrivain | ékwiven
you can make your art
make obscure literary references at brunch
drip poetry when you speak
but really all the people want
are the deepest
darkest parts of you
splayed out for them to examine
lurid tales of indiscretions
I am a difficult person
I am an endless void
always hunting in the dark
my mouth, a vault
of bittersweet words
I am a writer
and a scholar
and a slut
an eldest son, so forth and so on
but you just want to see me undressed
in the pale light of this room
trace me,
follow the nicks and scars deep down to my roots.
tilled in poor soil with not nearly enough sunlight,
yet still I grew undeterred, unwavering.
branches outstretched far and wide like my mother arms,
there to either cradle or shade you (take your pick).
no tolerance left for inaction,
devoid of patience for justice.
trace me,
the same fire raging you see before you
has always burned hot beneath the surface,
always been a card carrying member of the “others” –
the weirdos/punks/queers/misfits.
call us what you will, but we’re leading the charge now.
buying homes and settling in your quaint little areas of town,
and that raging fire is never going out.
A couple of weeks back, I had the pleasure of appearing on History is Gay, a podcast that examines the lives and personal identities of queer folks through the ages.
With her regular co-host Gretchen absent, Leigh and I discussed war poet, Siegfried Sassoon. Listen in for an episode rife with tragedy, bi-erasure, and as many quips as we could fit it! (Available on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your shows.)
Hayden Winston 
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