Lefty Reading for the Full Moon in Aquarius

Reach down
down
down

into that still
quiet place inside

where magick grows
(and toenails dance)

where you are free
to be 
you

Perfect as always and as only you can be.

Make a Full Moon Wish
Count your blessings
Release your sorrows

and dance

to the Stars
the Divines
your gods

yourself

for you are beauty in motion
forever

Blessed Be,
Kathy Crabbe

Lefty Oracle Card - Mantra: i am not overly concerned with you or your problems

Affirmation: I am perfectly at peace (so piss off).

Lefty Decks are here - my first and fave deck!

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Full Moon in Aquarius / Lunar Lammas
July 29, 2026 • 7:36 am Pacific Time

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Kathy Crabbe is a poet, artist and soul reader in service since 1992. To book a reading click here.

The God of Poets Has Two Hands

My mom calls this one sinister, my best friend, Jen calls it 'almost holy' but whatever happened during the process of creation, I can't really say, it felt channeled and it felt like having my good friend, Tangerine of Revolution Truth visit while I painted helped make it what it is. Astrologically, both my progressed moon and sun are in Scorpio; it's time to cut the bullshit, no? Sinister or holy, what do you think? The Poet Has Come Back (by Margaret Atwood)

The poet has come back to being a poet after decades of being virtuous instead.

Can’t you be both? No. Not in public.

You could, once, back when God was still thundering vengeance

and liked the scent of blood, and hadn’t got around to slippery forgiveness.

Then you could scatter incense and praise, and wear your snake necklace,

and hymn the crushed skulls of your enemies to a pious chorus.

No deferential smiling, no baking of cookies, no I’m a nice person really.

Welcome back, my dear. Time to resume our vigil,

time to unlock the cellar door, time to remind ourselves

that the god of poets has two hands: the dexterous, the sinister.

Ode to Faith Ringgold

She's like you, Paper is her life blood, Anthology is her song.

She cut loose on a box car Back in '54

Her lips sang out the saint's names Her body became pure No man could touch her (this poem remains unfinished but I'm taking suggestions for the last line especially if you mention easter and death)

written 10/28/2002