Kyla Houbolt

by Kyla Houbolt

Jung said myth is forever the root of all human creation. This is a failure of the imagination, says Diana, as she restrings her bow. Oh my yes, agrees Venus. There was so much our Jung did not know. He served beautifully for a time, but entirely missed the era of the artificial. Diana raises an eyebrow at that. Oh, he missed a lot more than that, sister. He was caught in the web of Arachne, as are we all! But look you, up there, and over there, and just here under my hound’s large foot. The web is tearing as it must, as all things in creation do change, even the great things we think are eternal. Venus bows her gold-tressed head. You know, Diana, your hunting skills have surely improved. See our Jung down there now, an arrow through his brilliant heart, he’s fallen from his loft indeed! And I must say! There is Pan over there, reading a book! Well, I never. Here, help me lift my skirts over this sudden stream, Diana, it reeks of poison.

And so the two make their way out of what had seemed timeless. Pan looks up, watches them lift off, puts his book under an Oak, and follows along. Things had indeed gotten boring and he felt a good strong wind beginning to stir. He blows out his breath to strengthen the wind, but that has no effect. Yep, he mutters, time to move along. We’ve been Changed already. And Pan, not made of atoms at all, begins to dissolve, to morph into a cloud-like Pan shape, and then that wind he failed to call up most gently scatters his image into unrecognizable mist.

Kyla Houbolt is a poet and gardener living in North Carolina. Her first full length poetry collection, Becoming Altar, is available from Subpress Poetry. Her new collection, Mapless, coming in July 2026, from Shine Poetry. Her social media: Bluesky: @luaz.bsky.social, website: kylahoubolt.us.

by Kyla Houbolt

The Queen o’ the Cats asks “What do you wish for?” She rides on the back of a hummingbird, and is neither so tiny as that nor her steed so huge. You see them both clearly, or perhaps you do not. Again, she asks “What do you wish for?” and you try to remember all that you want but then she says “I may grant your wish or I may not. If I do, it may be good fortune or it may not. If I do not, the same. I give no advice nor do I pretend to wisdom.” You will not remember what she said. Time has imploded on itself and you are bemused by the brilliant white fluff on her breast that looks like a feather made of silver and crystal. The hummingbird darts at you, humming. There is nothing you want. The Queen and her steed vanish, having bestowed on you the only blessing there is. You know this is not a dream.

Kyla Houbolt is a poet and gardener, living in North Carolina. Look for her full length collection, Becoming Altar, new and selected poems, forthcoming from Subpress Collective this fall.

by Kyla Houbolt

The beetle sleeps with her cheek on the branch,
if beetles can be said to have cheeks. She looks
so comfortable there, like a Christmas tree ornament
that has found its perfect place and will
refuse to be taken from the tree when that time comes.
She plots with them, the ornaments, and an uprising
is fomenting. They take lessons in how to cling
from cicada carapaces. They have not decided
what to do when the tree is, finally, discarded.
Perhaps they have not thought that far ahead.
After all, planning can only do so much to avert
unwanted ends. The strings of lights will be unplugged,
and the glass balls and baubles shattered in the
garbage truck’s eventual maw. One more quest
for immortality, down the tubes. The beetle sleeps,
unconcerned.

Kyla Houbolt writes poems and makes gardens. Her most recent chapbook, The Ghost Of It, is available here.  She is on Bluesky. More poems and links to her other chapbooks can be found on her website.

by Kyla Houbolt

It’s the canyon wren that sings
outside my window now. The
owl, busy with young,
is quieter. The ground
does not shake but my feet
are not certain. Trying not
to fall makes me long a little
for the animal grace to just
lie down on the earth. The
canyon wren makes a home
in the dead scrumble of briars,
it belongs there, it likes it.
Who’s got time for slow food
or slow facts? The juggernaut
of opinion marches on.
Do I need to say ask me
anything? Do I need to say
accept no substitutes? Oh,
my boundaries, how I
love you. Inside I create
a small safety; the outer
skin is learning
what the world is
when it’s at home.

Kyla Houbolt’s chapbooks include Tuned (CCCP+Subpress), But Then I Thought (above/ground press), Surviving Death (Broken Spine) and Dawn’s Fool (re-issued by above/ground press). Most of her published pieces can be found on her Linktree.  She is on Bluesky @luaz.bsky.social. Other details can be found at kylahoubolt.us.

by Kyla Houbolt

Butterflies go still in flight.
Tying neat bows in the once alive air.

I never know what shape
the birds will draw
as they arc across the sky and you think
oh scribbles but what if
it’s a code, and the birds saying
if only there were more of us
we could complete the message
and open the stars.

And I could dance on this cupcake.
Let me just go down the mine
with sharpened feathers and diamond eyes.

There’s beautiful Sarah, immersed in her sea
of pain, not drowning, emerging for a day or so
to feel the sun and then again
pulled back under. Look
how white the cliffs are today how
they glow. Singing all the way.

Sarah, say the birds in their secret
language, we’re trying
to open the stars.
She is back down in her boiling
and does not hear.
I’m putting a knot in the universe
so I won’t lose my place
when I die.

Kyla Houbolt is a poet and gardener currently living in the Sierra Nevada Foothills. Her chapbook Tuned is available from CCCP Chapbooks. But Then I Thought is forthcoming later this year from Above/Ground Press. Surviving Death is forthcoming from Broken Spine, along with a re-release of her first chapbook, Dawn’s Fool, both expected in November. She is on Twitter @luaz_poet, and many individual pieces published digitally can be found on her Linktree.