The Most Important Lesson—Freshman Year 1979

The Most Important Lesson—

Freshman Year 1979


I’m going to tell you about my freshman roommate, Lily*.  Because when I was seventeen, Lily taught me an important life skill that I am still trying to master.

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You Can’t Keep The House Your Daughter Was Born In

You Can’t Keep The House Your Daughter Was Born In

Remember that night, as my midwife Ghuru B, a tiny woman from Chicago, smiled at me? I was on all fours on the bed and mooing like a cow in distress. I knocked my tea mug over, the stain spreading down the wall, while my husband pressed the spot on my back to suppress the pain. And finally after twelve hours of labor, she was born.

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A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Laura Grevel

Fevers of the Mind

photo by Andrew Lee

with Laura Grevel:

Q1: When did you start writing and first influences?

Laura: I started writing when I was 17, mostly essays. My first influences were my storytelling grandparents, the books I read, nature, and the visual arts. I loved to listen to people tell stories. I loved to read—fiction, essays, poetry, mysteries. I loved plants and flowers and parks and west Texas and Mexico. I loved the paintings and sculpture of my parents and their artist friends.

Q2: Who are your biggest influences today?

Laura: My biggest influences today are my many poetry friends in the East Midlands, UK, and my two poetry workshop groups, Write The Poem and the Paper Cranes Collective. During the pandemic, Zoom Open Mics have also given me exposure to many poets from all over. Hearing these various poets read their work aloud and reading their poetry books and blogs…

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#stopthehate poems by Laura Grevel : Texas Freeze Over & People are Looking

Fevers of the Mind

Night, Snow, Frost, Cold, Trees

Texas Freeze Over—February 16, 2021 On that freezing eve in a winter storm, where nothing was the norm, eighteen-year-old Rodney Reese was walking home down a Plano street. He’d finished his shift at Walmart, groceries in hand, still had a good ways to go, slipping and stumbling in ice and snow, still had a good ways to go, when they showed up and slowed. He heard the shout, saw the colors of the car, felt a shiver run over his memory wars: remembered what happened to George Floyd in Minnesota, Eric Garner in New York, Ahmaud Arbery in Georgia, Daniel Prude in New York. Did the cops remember the truth as they told him to stop? That they’d been sent to make a wellness check? Not to be a pain in the friggin’ neck? That the state was now a disaster zone of ice and snow, bodies freezing in homes?…

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Voting From Abroad

As the November 2018 Senate and House of Representatives elections in the U.S.A. approach, we are again struggling to vote from abroad. So it’s time to send this blog out again!

Tellin’ Stories


Voting From Abroad

My fingers tremble, my breath rasps.  I flex my thigh muscles and prepare to leap . . . do the long jump . . . go far . . . over the ocean to reconnect with my people, my roots, my dirt.

But first, there’s this little thing called bureaucracy:

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#NationalDogDay For Fen & Petals August 26

Here’s a reblog of a poem for National Dog Day, just a little late.

Poetry and Stuff

Fen and Petals (2)

He’s dark,

Fensitively playful
he’s a son of a bitch
golden, but he has
wild plays
barked upon the field stage
with romping floppy ears
and a dear puppy attitude
retrieving a Labradorean
heritage cool

His Father it is said
was a shepherd who liked lamb chops,
but then in fending for himself

Fen will some day
wolf down Wiener schnitzel
romping with élan and bark

Sister Petals is a dog too
whose nickname is Flower Child,
but she knows she’s a dog
because she knows
how to fight Fen
with gentle teeth-to-teeth,
mouth-to-mouth, and
the canine literati
call her a wag, but

though play is like an apéritif,
lately, he’s been of-Fen-sive
getting under Petals’ belly
and knocking her over; oh no,
but she’s learned a de-Fen-se:
a self-imperative,”Petals down”

Soon dog treats are found, they
bounding into the kitchen

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