Hughes Léglise-Bataille
Even though she was certain she had drunken too much the night before, she still slid into her car, waiting briefly before turning the key and pulling out of the driveway. She drove with such caution, at least fifteen kilometers below the speed limit and triple checking every turn, sign and light. No one else had her caution, the world was so impatient that it wouldn’t wait for her. She had been left behind.
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Aela Labbe
BY DOUGLAS LUMAN
Author's note: These poems take on the occult through means of alchemy, created out of a book of practical magic: Perkins, Henry, and Barrington Haswell. Parlour Magic. Philadelphia: H. Perkins, 1838.
The Magician: Sight & Sound – Imitative Haloes
Spring suddenly burns in
a rosemary, the ruddy
color of lit charcoal,
artificial light, or
things a person intends.
You are told moonstone. You
are told moonglow. A chip
from the edge of the Earth;
you picture it, the slip
of a boy’s pop-gun. Two
minutes of crystals of
whispers. O, such a small
quantity leaves wanting.
An ounce of crow. One dram
of you. To change places?
Simple: fill an appearance.
Look from the moon’s long view
a blueness. But from here
a dark brown knot of dirt,
body shaken of moss.
The Magician: Sleights & Subtleties - Curious Experiment with a Glass of Water
Pick a mirror, hollow
glass; a highly polished
dish filled with the right air,
quicksilver, water, &
a scruple of alum.
Convert scruples to grains
to drachms—the apartment
of the palm, hold it,
vitreous animal.
The candle’s spirit turns
violet, turns indigo.
Even shutting the eye
they burn themselves from rest.
When Sir Isaac Newton
found fire, it was dropping
threads in liquid. Incant
now, I become an ounce.
The point—to vibrate in
unintelligible
jargon of linen. A
beverage of a voice,
the phantom in a skin.
Of the skull—what a nest—
a song or crucible
made of smooth masonry.
We think of it crafted
of ivory, dull &
polished, or an engraved
color of pearl. What if it
was empty? Gently knock
to sound its thickness. Find it
filled with stuff of yourself.
A space filled with crumpled
gray metal? An extract
that melts like camphor & in
an hour, it hardens.
The Magician: Sight & Sound – To Make a Prism
Open box containing
darkness. Introduce a
commonly dismal light
made completely of heat,
the degrees of which lie
in holding objects above
you. Follow the moon with
care. At the same time hold
tight to the weather. Steep
the air in your mouth. Call
a name to the glass—the shade
cast is amusing & burns
like fire. Laugh to cool
it. Iron folds out of
a paper slip, writing
the varieties of
gems & marble—one of which,
the eye occasioned by
magnesium, nitre,
some compound of beauty
& time breaking like a thumb
from hands from arms—hollow
stalks of lightning. A wan
figure. Shutter the blinds.
The Magician: Sight & Sound – Theory of Whispering
Literation somehow
leaves you, though all the neck’s
other parts seem to be
working fine. But the tongue,
a lunar muscle, acts
according to phases—
mostly waxing the moss
of promises, echoes
of some other name spilling
the crumbs of you that are
left about. No matter
of volume, sound travels
farther in warm places,
but is no substitute
for a body. Loudness,
as such, mistaken for
carelessness. Dismantle
the parts of his minute
& find a mouth or a proof
the surrounding space is
hollow & still.
Douglas Luman’s poetry has been published in magazines such as Salamander, Ocean State Review, Tupelo Quarterly, and Prelude. He is Production Director of Container, Art Director at Stillhouse Press, Head Researcher at appliedpoetics.org, a book designer, and digital human. His first book, The F Text, will be released in fall 2017 on Inside the Castle.
We are sixteen and arrogant. We follow curiosity
in the cab of your F-150, skip what we told
our mothers about church. Our prayers are songs
pumped loud through speakers. We sing hymns
of Kurt Cobain, flush against our wind-flung hair.
Natalia Drepina
witch blood, witch body, witch woman
handing out sweet milk and revenge
Image (Anais Nin) public domain; edited by Lisa Marie Basile
BY LISA MARIE BASILE
We really didn't want to do a "best of" list because it can feel reductive (and we love all of our content and all of our writers)—but we did want to do a roundup of some of the reads favorited and widely-read by our readers, along with those pieces that deeply resonated with our team of editors. There is no way that this list is comprehensive or representative of the many incredible pieces we've published over the past year, though!
Interview with Author, Mortician and Death Positive Activist Caitlin Doughty by Trista Edwards
On My Unapologetic Mother by Vanessa Wang
What Being a Caulbearer Means to Me by Kailey Tedesco
Poetry by Leslie Contreras Schwartz
Mexican White Magic by Lucina Stone
Read Tarot With a Simple Deck of Playing Cards by Tiffany Chaney
10 Movies About Witches That Will Terrify and Enchant You by Leza Cantoral
Intersectional Feminism: 5 Things White Women Need to Remember by Kyli Rodriguez-Cayro
Book of Shadows by Tina V. Cabrera
The Only Living Girl in a Rock Opera by Hannah Cohen
Poetry by Dominique Christina
"The blood of black women is unremarkable.
Window dressing, you might call it
For the horror show of lugging around
A body built for a funeral."
A Song for My Voice: A Non-binary Survivor Speaks Up by Chloé Rossetti
A Collaborative Poem by Alexis Bates & Logan February
A Water Ritual For Grief & Trauma by Lisa Marie Basile
How to be A Duplicitous Woman by Lydia A. Cyrus
Three Small Occult Presses You Should Check Out This Month by Trista Edwards
A Spell for Body Love & Appreciation by Laura Delarato
"It’s 2017 and 91% of women in the US are unhappy with their bodies. There is something wrong with this number. Unfortunately it doesn’t matter who you are or what you look like; we all walk around with an invisible cloud of insecurities based on our distorted view of how we are suppose to look — measured by impossible beauty standards. Advertisements, film and tv representations of women, media criticisms of bodies: they don’t care if you can wake up every morning as a person who love themselves. They want you to buy their product."
Poetry by Stephanie Valente
9 Reasons Why the Canadian Horror Film "Curtains" Deserves a Remake by Tiffany Sciacca
7 Doable, Inexpensive & Meaningful Ways to Practice Witchcraft by Archita Mittra
Riccardo Melosu
Where My Latina Protags At? by Amanda Toledo
Fibromyalgia: Three Instances of by Jay Vera Summer
Darrryl by Justin Allard
Valerie Hsiung In Conversation With Vi Khi Nao by Vi Khi Nao
"I am also drawn to the idea of poetry as thrown dice, poetry as a ritual effort (ie: climbing up a mile-long set of <stone> stairs only to encounter the Oracle--you know what I’m talking about, disembodied as It may be, who then takes over your body and voice and dictates to you yet ever so tenderly what to do. In this case, what poem to write)."
Every Single Reason You Should Brag Your Pushcart Nominations by Lisa Marie Basile
Theresa Duncan, My East Village Ghost by Patricia Grisafi
How to Create an Altar for Self-Care & Intention Setting by Lisa Marie Basile
What Self-Care & Beauty Rituals Mean for Trans & Non-Binary People by Joanna Valente
"I've really struggled with beauty stuff being genderqueer/transmasculine, but lately I got my eyebrows done and started wearing bright red lipstick as a way of claiming beauty rituals for myself."
Poetry by Diannely Antigua
Is It OK To Make Fun Of Instagram Poets? by Lisa Marie Basile
Whisper, with Blonde Hair: Mi Vida Loca's New Gangster Queen by Monique Quintana
Poetry by Kristin Chang
The Car Goes On: On My Father's Death by Fraylie Nord
Poetry by Tim Lynch
The Labyrinth of Anti-Aging and Shame by Claire Rudy Foster
The Sensuous, Feminine Power of Drinking Beer by Trista Edwards
The Barbaric Silencing of Transgender & Non-Binary People by Joanna Valente
When Someone Dies By Suicide, Headlines Sensationalize Their Death by Lior Zaltzman
How to Sew A Poppet by Mary Lanham
Poetry by Cooper Wilhelm
"I’d like to ask her if it’s narcissistic to fall
in love with the taste of your own blood,
needing the damage enough to craft a window into yourself
from a cut on the roof of your mouth."
On the Ritual of Downtime and the Oppressive Trappings of Writer's Block Literary Citizenship by Lisa Marie Basile
An Open Letter to My Nipples by Chloé Rossetti
How to Avoid a bad Tarot Reading by Asa West
Lisa Marie Basile is the founding editor-in-chief and creative director of Luna Luna Magazine and community. She is the author of a few books of poetry, including a full-length collection, Apocryphal. Her book Nympholepsy (co-authored with Alyssa Morhardt-Goldstein), will be published by Inside the Castle in November 2018 and was a finalist in the 2017 Tarpaulin Sky Book Awards. She is also working on her first novella, to be released by Clash Books in 2019. Her first nonfiction book, Light Magic for Dark Times, will be published by Quarto Books in 2018. Lisa Marie's work has appeared in the New York Times, Narratively, Refinery 29, Greatist, Bust, Bustle, Marie Claire, The Establishment, Hello Giggles, Ravishly, Marie Claire, and more. You can catch her on the podcasts Into the Dark, Essie's Hour of Love, and Get Lit With Leza. She recently received two Pushcart nominations—for her work in Narratively and The Account. She received an MFA from The New School in NYC.
André Kertész
Paris was blue – tired, sleepy dawn mushed into
slow sunset folded over a city that is laying itself open yet
hiding every part of it under bricks and light.
Quadrophenia (1979)
In another universe, my father and I are coming home from the concert, and he still leaves.
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via beliefnet
This isn’t a new concept. Epic poetry has been calling to gods and muses for centuries. However, the nuance is in a lack of spiritual power attached to that character. The Poetic God is a trope to which I address my existential idiosyncrasies. This God exists only in my writing as a thematic apostrophe linked to all the other poems that address a god. For someone that believes in a higher power, my lines may resonate for them as a genuinely religious exhortation. I encourage that. For me, their poetry referencing a religious god becomes my Poetic God.
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Aliza Razell
From my bedroom window, I watch the ferries. Like counting sheep, see them float across my window, light up against the darkness, and reflect in the water. I can't sleep, and the languid pace lulls me.
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Sit Zone Art
Now some people love the water and anything water related. Luckily, there are quite a few gift options out there and below you will find what I hope are interesting ideas for the upcoming gift giving season.
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Ashely Adams
Jupiter
There is a storm older than the world (at the center of everything),
churning gods’ blood
(eating the flesh of their flesh).
Its daughters turned
into ice and rock under a jealous rain, bending
all the softness into metal.
(Don’t look).
This gale sings in hydrogen tongues
and swallows
swallows
swallows
Like this work? Donate to Ashely Adams.
Ashely Adams is an MFA candidate in nonfiction at the University of South Florida. Her work has appeared in Flyway, Heavy Feather Review, Fourth River, Anthropoid, Permafrost, OCCULUM and others. Her favorite astronomical body is the Galilean moon, Europa.
Mark Lamoureux lives in New Haven, CT. He is the author of four full-length collections of poetry: It’ll Never Be Over For Me (Black Radish Books, 2016), 29 Cheeseburgers / 39 Years (Pressed Wafer, 2013), Spectre (Black Radish Books 2010), and Astrometry Orgonon (BlazeVOX Books 2008),. His work has been published in print and online in Elderly, Denver Quarterly, Jacket, Fourteen Hills and many others. In 2014 he received the 2nd annual Ping Pong Poetry award, selected by David Shapiro, for his poem “Summerhenge/Winterhenge.” He teaches at Housatonic Community College in Bridgeport, CT. His chapbook, Maris McLamoureary's DICTIONNAIRE INFERNAL, co-authored with Chris McCreary, was published by Empty Set Press on Halloween 2017.
Chris McCreary is the author of four books: [neüro / mäntic], undone : a fakebook, Dismembers, and The Effacements. His review of Arrive On Wave, the Collected Poems of Gil Ott, is forthcoming in Tripwire. His chapbook, Maris McLamoureary's DICTIONNAIRE INFERNAL, co-authored with Mark Lamoureux, was published by Empty Set Press on Halloween 2017.
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Natalia Drepina
I’m still so afraid of all the monsters that I never want anyone to know or even know about, that no one should ever have to know at all.
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Michael Kestin
My mother says that she feels the presence of my aunt a lot. Something in the way the curtains move and shake when the wind blows makes my mother feel her there. I’ve never experienced that. A month ago, however, I experienced something else. I had dreams about her often after she died. In the beginning, it felt kind of her to show up like that. Despite the experience of watching her die and then seeing her body leave, I never had nightmares. It was always dreams about her talking to me and being confused over my crying. Even in my dreams I would cry because I was aware of it being a dream.
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When it comes to music, I'm always listening. Music isn't just a song someone produced, it's the footsteps down the hall, the rain on the roof of a bus, the clicking of laptop keys. When musicians truly understand this, and understand the poetics to every sound that happens around us, and realizes it's music, you know you're about to get a gift.
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