by Laura Lentz | Nov 13, 2021 | EPIGENETICS: Mothers, Fathers & Ancestors, OXYGEN: Poetry for Survival & Thriving
For five years my mother couldn’t get pregnant. Being pregnant was fashionable in the late fifties, Having a home and a husband and dinner every night with meat, a starch and a canned vegetable was in vogue. Having babies was fashionable, like purses that exactly...
by Laura Lentz | Nov 8, 2021 | LOVE & SEXUALITY, OXYGEN: Poetry for Survival & Thriving
Years ago, when I was deep in relationship with my first love, who would die three years after this story, I was a hummingbird living in an intoxicating city. Even the smell of the exhaust fumes of the cars thrilled me, it was all heady – the museums, the...
by Laura Lentz | Oct 31, 2021 | OXYGEN: Poetry for Survival & Thriving
I had a recurring dream that I died in a plane crash. I was young in the dream, a woman, with a story in my lap that had been typed on a typewriter. Each time I dreamt this, I woke up just as the plane was spiraling toward the ground, before impact. A few years after...
by Laura Lentz | Oct 23, 2021 | EPIGENETICS: Mothers, Fathers & Ancestors, OXYGEN: Poetry for Survival & Thriving
It happens like this. – one day you believe in Santa Claus, that he’s an old, fat but happy man living with reindeer and tiny men that love hammers and nails, building things just for you, never mind the other children in other countries that don’t even have...
by Laura Lentz | Oct 18, 2021 | OXYGEN: Poetry for Survival & Thriving, Uncategorized
I do not care if you only come to me in a cloud. I would be happy to have you shaping yourself over my house, over my long hike, to sit at the table with you on the other side of the roof becoming something else. Miss you as a baby dinosaur, as elephant, as bunny....
by Laura Lentz | Oct 17, 2021 | I AM THE HERO OF MY JOURNEY, OXYGEN: Poetry for Survival & Thriving, Uncategorized, WRITING AT RED LIGHTS
L. couldn’t find her voice to tell us that awful thing had happened to her. We were all twelve, but L. had breasts while Val and I waited for our lives to begin by willing ours to grow. When L. walked into our homes, our brothers stared and our fathers looked the...
