1 25 8 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource All Anthology Poems Description An account of the resource This is a collection of all poems currently available to read in the Anthology. To browse poems by author identity tags, <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/tag-index" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">visit the tag index</a> or <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/search" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">try our advanced search</a>. Poem Contains text information about individual contributors to the anthology. Text Any textual data included in the document Loud footsteps felt within the chest, the walls cave in and I am trapped beneath the ruins. Memories collide with memories, bounce wall to wall in the claustrophobic space I call my mind and I am desperate for an escape. The cries for a feeling of belonging flatline through my uneasiness felt within every space. A descendent of endlessly fleeing parents fails to model making a place feel like home and the screams serve as an exile; I am cast outside where I am said to belong. Childhood house mistaken for childhood home and the pummeling bleeds into the walls and consumes me. An exercise in class demands I place myself on a hypothetical map to demonstrate where I feel at home and I wither. I stand on the spot where my apartment resides but that is not where my heart is. They tell you home is where the heart is without accounting for the diffusion of one's heart in people now-absent. They tell you home is where the heart is without acknowledging the beat-down, spun-around heart that is afraid to be of use any longer. If only you could differentiate between heart and home like you can between mother and father. I hang posters on my bedroom walls trying to leave pieces of me in the site I rest at night but it is lousy. It is a lousy attempt/a lousy cause and I am not sure whether I will ever succeed. A word lost in translation, devoid of definition, it rings obsolete to this imagination. For I find refuge in writing and shelter in my apartment, there is no home in which my mind feels at ease and my body relaxes. My home is everywhere and nowhere. I am fresh to this Earth with limited time remaining, yet I still question whether I will be forever detached from where I was birthed. I feel the weight of witnessing others’ belonging in my heart and await the snap of the strings. Staring through window after window, I begin to view myself from above as if there is not even a home in this body. As I am abused by life’s forces with no end in sight, I shrink into my skin in search of warmth as a place. Warmth as a place such as present in home but I remain cold without. The passage of time envelopes me and while I live and live and live with no grand escape, I exclaim: Heaven please save me and make me your home. —<a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/show/712" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Juno</a> Content Warnings Warnings about any potentially harmful or triggering content present in the text. childhood trauma or abuse mental health Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Heaven please help me for I have no home here. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Juno Author Tag: activist Author Tag: Asian or Asian American Author Tag: neurodivergent Author Tag: queer Author Tag: transmasc Content Notice: childhood trauma or abuse Content Notice: mental health Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource All Anthology Poems Description An account of the resource This is a collection of all poems currently available to read in the Anthology. To browse poems by author identity tags, <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/tag-index" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">visit the tag index</a> or <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/search" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">try our advanced search</a>. Poem Contains text information about individual contributors to the anthology. Text Any textual data included in the document Killing me will not save you Saving me will not kill you Without a choice we’ll be stagnate forever. We will never get out of this hell by just sitting there. Now tap on the wall Scream at me, just once, it's okay I promise. But you don't save me and you only almost kill me. Could we just be normal? Do something to let me know you're not dead inside. Your silence is deafening My screaming doesn't make you move Not even a twitch Please say something I don’t care if you hit me Just let me know your still in there. Please mom, just let me know your still there. I can’t hold on much longer. —<a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/show/650" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Hannah Cherry (they/them/it)</a> Content Warnings Warnings about any potentially harmful or triggering content present in the text. violence abuse or trauma childhood trauma or abuse family trauma or domestic violence Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource - Let me know - Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Hannah Cherry (they/them/it) Author Tag: bisexual Author Tag: genderfluid Author Tag: low-income Author Tag: neurodivergent Author Tag: pansexual Author Tag: polyamorous Author Tag: Polysexual Author Tag: transgender Author Tag: white Content Notice: childhood trauma or abuse Content Notice: family trauma or domestic violence Content Notice: trauma or abuse Content Notice: violence Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource All Anthology Poems Description An account of the resource This is a collection of all poems currently available to read in the Anthology. To browse poems by author identity tags, <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/tag-index" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">visit the tag index</a> or <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/search" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">try our advanced search</a>. Poem Contains text information about individual contributors to the anthology. Text Any textual data included in the document I buried my father in May The same month of my birth A half century before Childhood memories closest to “happy” Are from being rocked to sleep Not by arms meant to hold you— But curled up in the wheel well of his Impala Bouncing down the streets of south LA While he delivered drugs out of the hidden cash box at his feet like some corrupt predecessor to Doordash My uncle was always riding shot gun on these trips that became a strange men’s only club Both men now gone One faced his regrets in prison and the other made his final apology in a lonely hospital bed I buried my father in May When delicate spring flowers were just beginning to peek out of their hiding spots Bright pinks and yellow bold in their sharp contrast to the months of grey water, grey clouds, grey raindrops covering everything in dismay, moss and mold In this town where mountain meets the sea I buried my father in May & the world felt safer— And I was liberated of a life sentence imposed upon me without my consent: Keep him away from your sisters Do the things he can’t seem to do Smile as if nothing is odd when he objectifies The waitress Nurse Stranger at church Do not Let him be alone Do not let him be alone With any little girl Do not let him I buried my father in May Thirty years I waited for him to die And take with him the pervasive hatred of women he learned in the 50’s as he was tasked with watching over 8 siblings while his battered mother was forced into sex work Never was he angry with the fist— Always seething under the surface Because of the one woman who had no other option But to take it —<a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/show/546" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Trey E. NewDay (they/them)</a> Content Warnings Warnings about any potentially harmful or triggering content present in the text. childhood trauma or abuse drugs family trauma or domestic violence sex work Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Bringing Flowers Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Trey E. NewDay (they/them) Author Tag: activist Author Tag: disabled Author Tag: genderfluid Author Tag: genderqueer Author Tag: Homeless or formerly homeless Author Tag: impacted by poverty Author Tag: pansexual Author Tag: parent Author Tag: polyamorous Author Tag: queer Author Tag: Rural community member Author Tag: transgender Author Tag: transmasc Content Notice: childhood trauma or abuse Content Notice: drugs Content Notice: family trauma or domestic violence Content Notice: sex work Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource All Anthology Poems Description An account of the resource This is a collection of all poems currently available to read in the Anthology. To browse poems by author identity tags, <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/tag-index" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">visit the tag index</a> or <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/search" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">try our advanced search</a>. Poem Contains text information about individual contributors to the anthology. Text Any textual data included in the document Well you are what you eat. It’s a character flaw, but I play catcher on this team and I hold them just fine. No spitter, quitter, or heavy-hitter, I survive these boys and their blows each summer, learning as all late bloomers eventually do sucking can be a real talent. We learn a specific kind of survival here where I grew up alongside one of thirteen Ronald Reagan Memorial Highways becoming a lavatory fixture unlike my father ever dreamed. He asked me was it really that bad in our town, where a boy we used to know disappeared with an extension cord and closet door. That week, the team made t-shirts that read Better Of Dead, wrapped a pair of gym shorts around my neck to drag me kicking– Sorry. I’m not trying to upset you. This all happened a long time ago. Let me try again: I think language bears history like branch scars, accumulating skyward until the whole organism folds under its weight. From this trunk I carved myself a bat. I mean I carved a shield. I mean I was born just like everyone on a rotting nurse log, fighting for scraps and sun, slow possum and witch egg learning a tongue for prick mushroom at the bottom of this hill I’ve tumbled down enough times to learn if you keeping hitting bottom, bottom starts to hit back. —<a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/show/516" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Connor Cash Colbert (he/him)</a> Content Warnings Warnings about any potentially harmful or triggering content present in the text. violence childhood trauma or abuse suicide or self-harm (including ideation) erotic (explicit) Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Why Are You Such a Dick? Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Connor Cash Colbert Author Tag: gay Content Notice: childhood trauma or abuse Content Notice: erotic (explicit) Content Notice: suicide or self-harm (including ideation) Content Notice: violence Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource All Anthology Poems Description An account of the resource This is a collection of all poems currently available to read in the Anthology. To browse poems by author identity tags, <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/tag-index" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">visit the tag index</a> or <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/search" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">try our advanced search</a>. Poem Contains text information about individual contributors to the anthology. Text Any textual data included in the document The terror of familiarity sears my flesh as the miles count down, As road my body has hurtled over time and again is passed, As buildings inhabited by a me who no longer exists go by, And I know I am home. My breath crushes in my chest as the vice grip of intimacy clutches me, And we curve into the clean and neat neighborhood of my youth. I’m made a mess by the manicured lawns that once signed hate, Twisting love into disease and my heart into ruins. The trinkets, the dressings, the displays may change, but The haunting halls where I took my first steps Echo with slow pain, and with laughter, and with Footsteps of beloveds no longer earthly tethered. —<a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/show/358">Arin Kwan</a> Content Warnings Warnings about any potentially harmful or triggering content present in the text. childhood trauma or abuse Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The House That Haunts Me Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Arin Kwan Author Tag: Asian or Asian American Author Tag: genderfluid Author Tag: mixed race Author Tag: neurodivergent Author Tag: nonbinary Author Tag: pansexual Author Tag: queer Author Tag: transgender Content Notice: childhood trauma or abuse Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource All Anthology Poems Description An account of the resource This is a collection of all poems currently available to read in the Anthology. To browse poems by author identity tags, <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/tag-index" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">visit the tag index</a> or <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/search" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">try our advanced search</a>. Poem Contains text information about individual contributors to the anthology. Text Any textual data included in the document I’ve been a wife, a husband, a daughter, a son A sister, a brother, a burden, alone without one True friend in my own mind Hating every part of me that I’ve tried to hide. I’ve had enough with binaries and pride, Owning my heart, won by the me’s that have died. I call on my shadows and gather them close, They become armor once everyone knows. I joke, I turn my pain, into new kinks and pleasure I lean to my femme side, a gay boy in leather I call myself out, my new family in witness And I don’t feel relief, but I wouldn’t miss this The truth is, I’m not that tough after all You give me some love and I start to bawl. I work on myself, therapy is my flogger Finding darkness I can’t see with no trusted other To tell me I'm not bad, no matter my flaws That it wasn’t my fault, I was a child after all Brainwashed, abused, trafficked, and lost Recovered, re-parented, won over the cost To recover my strength, to daily fight over The demons they tried to so deeply cover So see me as I am, not so tough, not so broken Another binary shattered with these words spoken Maybe I’m both survivor and victim And maybe some of my sins cannot be forgiven But I’ll keep doing my best, and I’ll ask you for help Finally, learning, I can’t do it myself People need other people, whether human or furry I still need a hug when things are too big to bury. I’ve had enough of isolation and pride, I’d rather be seen than continue to hide, The things I do that seem strange, and confide The secrets of those who have harmed me inside. And with this new start, I’ll bring you along Caring for others, is how I feel strong. We’re building a platform, finally, a stage, For those of us, choosing to leave their own cage. With a little love, some patience, and aid A family of trans siblings, our dreams will be made Be you. Weird. Shout “Hey, look at me now” No longer alone when you take your last bow. —<a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/show/331">Puff the Magic System (he/him)</a> Content Warnings Warnings about any potentially harmful or triggering content present in the text. kink childhood trauma or abuse abuse or trauma mental health lack of acceptance Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource See Me Now Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Puff the Magic System Author Tag: activist Author Tag: disabled Author Tag: genderqueer Author Tag: immigrant Author Tag: impacted by poverty Author Tag: neurodivergent Author Tag: pansexual Author Tag: polyamorous Author Tag: queer Author Tag: transmasc Author Tag: white Content Notice: childhood trauma or abuse Content Notice: kink Content Notice: lack of acceptance Content Notice: mental health Content Notice: trauma or abuse Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource All Anthology Poems Description An account of the resource This is a collection of all poems currently available to read in the Anthology. To browse poems by author identity tags, <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/tag-index" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">visit the tag index</a> or <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/search" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">try our advanced search</a>. Poem Contains text information about individual contributors to the anthology. Text Any textual data included in the document In the houses I grew up in, a deep ache punctuated everything. The faint but steady pulse of something between life and death. Coffee stains overlay a crimson wine ring; the sporadic ensos of life. I was 10 when I realized something was burning. It felt both near and far; an idea of something against what it actually is. The fantasy exists if you learn not to look for too long. But it was all I could see - the vignette at the edges of my reality, a shadow creeping slowly along the corners of everyday life. My sister thrusts the bottle into my hands. She says she wants to return to the graves of the people our parents used to be. We've been here before. The path from her door is worn like a trench. The path from her door is worn like a trench. We've been here before. She says she wants to return to the graves of the people our parents used to be. My sister thrusts the bottle into my hands. But it was all I could see - the vignette at the edges of my reality, a shadow creeping slowly along the corners of every day life. The fantasy exists if you learn not to look for too long. It felt both near and far; an idea of something against what it actually is. I was 10 when I realized something was burning. Coffee stains overlay a crimson wine ring; the sporadic ensos of life. The faint but steady pulse of something between life and death. In the houses I grew up in, a deep ache punctuated everything. —<a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/show/167">R.E. Yelton (she/her & they/them)</a> Content Warnings Warnings about any potentially harmful or triggering content present in the text. addiction childhood trauma or abuse Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Untitled Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource R.E. Yelton (she/her & they/them) Author Tag: activist Author Tag: bisexual Author Tag: demisexual Author Tag: genderqueer Author Tag: Hispanic or Latine/o/a/x Author Tag: Mental Health Author Tag: pansexual Author Tag: queer Content Notice: addiction Content Notice: childhood trauma or abuse Content Notice: religious trauma Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource All Anthology Poems Description An account of the resource This is a collection of all poems currently available to read in the Anthology. To browse poems by author identity tags, <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/tag-index" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">visit the tag index</a> or <a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/search" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">try our advanced search</a>. Poem Contains text information about individual contributors to the anthology. Text Any textual data included in the document My mother was a Nazi child before she came to America(n ways), the long wearing off of the old country: face slaps and rules for children. All she had to do was look at me, though she did slap first, then ask. We were only to be seen, and when we spoke, we used that old tongue Kann ich mich entschuldigen? to be excused from the table. Excuses, excuses, I made my share. Up the stairs from the dark scary cellar without whatever I was sent to get. I forgot. Then her singsong voice mocking me, I forgahttt. There was no back talk. In her perfectionism, my failure. Wrong, wrong. Like a cicada underground, festering decades, spiny, quick as a whip, at small irritations, larger wounds: I snap. I was harmed—was she looking then, before time revealed the truth. With the pain, release; with release, relief, and unraveling. I stuffed and stuffed all the words I couldn’t say, forbidden, under a false front: who me? Sunny summer child. A little slow they thought. But no. Not slow, dumb from the gnarled hands that broke something in me. Murder, murder, a sky full of crows. Black feathers, black danger. A thousand cuts. Anger, a commodity, black oil pumps in my Germanic heart. —<a href="https://waqueeranth.omeka.net/items/show/109">Subhaga Crystal Bacon</a> Content Warnings Warnings about any potentially harmful or triggering content present in the text. childhood trauma or abuse abuse or trauma mental health Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource And Still, I Pry it Loose Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Subhaga Crystal Bacon Author Tag: genderqueer Author Tag: neurodivergent Author Tag: nonbinary Author Tag: queer Author Tag: Rural community member Author Tag: transmasc Author Tag: white Content Notice: childhood trauma or abuse Content Notice: mental health Content Notice: trauma or abuse