Kayla used to be a priestess of Aphrodite, but she was such a bitch - all those lessons in love, including jealousy, heartache, misery, and despair. Now she is the Priestess of Laphrodite, Goddess of the Belly laugh. Laughter is the best medicine, but as far as Kayla was concerned, it's also the best lube. Reflecting a time of questing and questioning for our Baby Crone, she changes careers, discovers online dating, and fuels her passion for blogging.
Poems, Prose and Photography2020 - 2023
Through the rollercoaster of emotions that was the COVID-19 pandemic. Kayla Garnet Rose captures the essence of those times with her beautiful collection of poetry, prose, letters, and photographs. Reading this book felt like revisiting a period of lockdowns, long walks, and virtual friendships. It beautifully encapsulates the sense of isolation and the moments of connection we find in unexpected places, like chalk art and free libraries.
What I loved most about this book is how it resonates with the collective experience of living through such a tumultuous time - the impeachment, infections, and insurrections. Kayla Garnet Rose's words provide a sense of comfort, reminding us that we were not alone in our pandemic blues. As a 27-year-old woman, I found solace in the pages of this book, knowing that others felt the same way I did during those challenging days. It's a poignant reminder of our shared humanity, and I highly recommend it to anyone looking to reflect on the past and find hope for the future.
More than a thousand
Peace cranes
Meditations
Secret frustrations
Friendships unfulfilled
Forays
Camping thirsty minutes
Away
New Brighton Beach
Yellowstone
Morro Bay
My time to
Light candles
Vibrissae
I would have held on to
That burnt-out light bulb
For twenty years or more
If you had asked
I did lose the Queen of Hearts
If we meet
I'll have to take off my clothes
I returned the tombstone
Anti-apartheid Bear with
The leather feet
All the past
Treasures
The Adventures of Baby Moon
we have a complex relationship. I have a coyote vertebrae I found out in the desert many years ago. Coyotes recently ate one of my cats, Mango. The trickster, jokester, slyster, heister.
It has taken me a long time to get this far in this painting, and I see more to do. Meanwhile, I make book covers and remake the pressed wildflowers from the Appalachian trail that my fairy stepson brought me, as well as creating a fra,e for my recently deceased sister-in-law, Carol. Since her death, both of her sons/my nephews have passed, as well as my across-the-street neighbor, Anita - we had been on the same street for thirty years.
Saturn Return in Pisces. Bless astrology for giving me some context, because certainly, I feel my faith has been being tested.
Find some seeds - pumpkin, sunflower, poppy, wildflowers
Whatever floats your fancy
Hold them in your palm and whisper your wishes
Imbue them with your hot breath
Walk around your house, church, or favorite field
Clockwise or counter, notice what feels right
At each of the four directions (and the cross directions)
Throw your seeds, scatter them
To the wind that they may find fertile ground
To the ants to feed the hive mind community
To the squirrels and chipmunks stuffing their cheeks with abundance
To the birds, who will fly into your dreams
Invite in the rain
Release any frustrations, cry
Welcome the sun f
Feel a sense of energy begin to build.
Trust that you'll be able to weed out
What is weak or ineffectual
Focus and simplify
Nourish your dreams
As they unfurl from a mere thought to full manifestation
Shelter your dreams - tell no one
Until you see sure signs of growth,
Ready for assistance
Immune to criticism
Of the naysayers
Just like the rose is immune
With its thorns.
Seeds of hope
Seeds of change.
Seeds of peace
And seed money
Flourish into abundance
Benefiting all the creatures of the earth
This or something better now occurs
For the greatest good
So mote it be. Blessed be.
Paper Bark
Quivers
When I was in first grade, living in McLean, Virginia, I had the biggest crush on Birch, who sat two desks away from mine in the second row. For some reason he wore little wrist sweatbands, maybe to emulate Bjorn Borg, the Swedish tennis champ of the time. We were partnered for the Horah dance at the holiday pagent, but he got sick and I had to dance with Ross instead.
Now when I look at the birch tree in my front yard, I'm aware of the rising sap, the way the Elm is stealing the sun away from it, and the spread of roots from the nearby bottlebrush. Yet it thrives, pushing out new leaves, allowing the bark to peel when need be.
F is for Family
