Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body), #Survivor: A Photo Series (forthcoming), and A Love Story (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press, 2021). They are the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault and the illustrator of Dead Tongue (Yes Poetry, 2020). They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College, and Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine.
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A Playlist for The World
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body), #Survivor: A Photo Series (forthcoming), and A Love Story (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press, 2021). They are the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault and the illustrator of Dead Tongue (Yes Poetry, 2020). They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College, and Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine.
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Spoonie Witch Magic and Wordcraft
BY LISA MARIE BASILE
I spend a lot of time thinking about disability and accessibility in our sacred or creative practices, and how our lives are affected by, informed by, or intersected by our bodies and our wellness. A few examples: Do places of worship offer a wheelchair ramp? Can we modify more meditation classes for folks who can’t sit down at all or for long periods (me!)? Do we feel encouraged to create altar spaces that are tiny, portable, and simple...so we can take it to bed during flare-ups? Do poetry conferences or literary reading spaces make accessibility a priority?
I believe that we should all feel encouraged and inspired to practice, pray, or tap into sacredness in a way that works for our minds and bodies — and to use our body/pain/individual experiences as a strength or energy source?
These Spoonie Witch ideas, insights, and prompts are intended to get you thinking about your magic and your power — in ways that work for you. They are designed to help you send love to yourself and reclaim your narrative. Whatever that is, and wherever you may be in the process.
PS: I live with ankylosing spondylitis, a degenerative spinal disease that affects pretty much everything, from my heart to my gut. I can’t POSSIBLY speak to everyone’s experience, but this comes from my own.
My next book, City Witchery, is coming out later this year — and deals largely with finding accessible ways to tap into sacredness in a city environment, and inside of an apartment/shared space/small space.
finding empowerment
Where there are perceived or real limitations, there are also opportunities for growth. Pain often gives us empathy. Loneliness can make us creative. Frustration can drive real social change. Using that big, potent energy in your own magical practice can create change and push toward transformation. Isn't that the goal? To change, to grow? To lean into the power? Don’t be afraid to transmute those big feelings — frustration at broken systems, social isolation due to chronic flare-ups — into your magic.
Sometimes, when the feelings are overwhelming, I work with candle magic — pushing all those ideas into the flame, watching them dance and flicker and turn into something stronger.
tuning into the body
Spending so much time tuned in to your body — and tending to its needs — can be exhausting. But it also means that you are damn good at tapping into your body more readily. Where do you feel energy, anxiety, power, or sensuality? Where do you feel anger or empathy? Pull from that source and use it in your spells or visualizations.
finding what works for you
What form of magic feels right to you? Some of us can't move/perform/concentrate, etc like others. That is okay. Make a list of what feels right to you. Is It breathwork, sex magic, visualization, concentration, writing? Embrace the notion that YOU can adapt rituals or practices to your strengths. You have the right to choose.
creating accessible altars
The idea that we need certain tools or fancy objects or an immaculate, rose-adorned space to perform our sacred practice is outdated. Not everything is Instagrammable; that’s just not realistic. Make a small box or bag and fill it with a few power Items (a candle, tarot, salts, or stones). Keep your journal or grimoire with it. Keep it at your bedside for flare days. That's more than magical enough. Shout out to Ryn’s Ramblings for their awesome ideas around magic and chronic illness (and Altoid box altars!).
shadow working pain
We all hate pain and discomfort. What if we listened to it, gave it compassion, and gave it attention (rather than seeking distraction)? This is a form of shadow work. The pain is not separate from you. It Is a part of you. This gives you the ability to notice it, transmute it, use it, and find strength in it. Pain can be an energy source; you get to choose when and how.
body poetics
Write a poem to your body, to your brain fog, to your Insomnia, to your limited mobility, to your grief, to your reflection, to your bruised arms, your shaking legs, your scars, your distracted mind. What would a love poem to yourself look like? What would a rage poem sound like? How would an ode to your beautiful neurodiversity read? What does it sound like when we write the narrative, and when we reclaim our story?
Read it aloud and feel the power in your words.
Need some inspiration? Be sure to work through these chronic illness journaling prompts I’ve created right here.
A note on magic and wellness
While ritual can help us center ourselves and find empowerment, autonomy, and magic, it is not a cure for chronic illness. Reach out for professional help. Seek medication. Know that social and political oppression can directly affect you in ways that spells or prayers can’t vanquish. Take care of your body. Seek community. And know that you’re not alone.
—
Lisa Marie Basile (she/her) is a poet, essayist, editor, and chronic illness awareness advocate living in New York City. She's the founder and creative director of Luna Luna Magazine and its online community, and the creator of Ritual Poetica, a curiosity project dedicated to exploring the intersection of writing, creativity, healing, & sacredness.
She is the author of THE MAGICAL WRITING GRIMOIRE, LIGHT MAGIC FOR DARK TIMES, and a few poetry collections, including the recent NYMPHOLEPSY, which is excerpted in Best American Experimental Writing 2020. Her essays and other work can be found in The New York Times, Narratively, Sabat Magazine, We Are Grimoire, Witch Craft Magazine, Refinery 29, Self, Healthline, Entropy, On Loan From The Cosmos, Chakrubs, Catapult, Bust, Bustle, and more. She is also a chronic illness advocate, keeping columns at several chronic illness patient websites. She earned a Masters's degree in Writing from The New School and studied literature and psychology as an undergraduate at Pace University. You can follow her at lisamariebasile.
Review of Tara Isabel Zambrano's ' Death, Desire, and Other Destinations '
“ …women find autonomy in peripheral beauty and strange thoughts. “
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Managing Creativity With Chronic Illness
How can we tap into our creative energies when we are battling chronic fatigue, chronic pain, inflammatory issues, brain fog, & the mental health issues that come from managing illness?
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4 New Books You Won't Want to Miss
Joanna C. Valente is an alien from Saturn’s rings. They have written, illustrated, and edited a few books. Sometimes they take photos and bake ugly desserts.
A Playlist for Judgement
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body), #Survivor: A Photo Series (forthcoming), and A Love Story (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press, 2021). They are the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault and the illustrator of Dead Tongue (Yes Poetry, 2020). They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College, and Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine.
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Something about the moon but it is always my mother
and there are no more mirrors
on the cusp of a night in autumn
5 Poets of Color to Watch in 2021
Jennifer McBain-Stephens is a writer who lives in Iowa City, Iowa with her children and works at a science journal. She grew up in the Midwest and went to NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, where she studied three subjects: Drama, English, and Journalism. She has also lived in California, D.C., London, and New York, for various periods. Jennifer is the author of fifteen poetry chapbooks and four full length poetry collections (“Your Best Asset is a White Lace Dress” Yellow Chair Press (2016) “The Messenger is Already Dead,” Stalking Horse Press (2017,) “We’re Going to Need a Higher Fence,” (Lit Fest Press,) and The Vitamix and the Murder of Crows, (Apocalypse Party Press.) She is also the author of a few non-fiction books from a long time ago when she used to work as a fact checker at Rosen Publishing and Scholastic Inc. in New York City and she’d see Ric Ocasek on the subway. She also makes collages, likes to take photographs, and hosts the monthly poetry reading series Today You are Perfect, sponsored by Iowa City Poetry.
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A Playlist for The Sun
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body), #Survivor: A Photo Series (forthcoming), and A Love Story (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press, 2021). They are the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault and the illustrator of Dead Tongue (Yes Poetry, 2020). They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College, and Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine.
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A Playlist for The Moon
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body), #Survivor: A Photo Series (forthcoming), and A Love Story (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press, 2021). They are the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault and the illustrator of Dead Tongue (Yes Poetry, 2020). They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College, and Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine.
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Poetry by Mandy May
BY MANDY MAY
I want people to think
I want people to think that I said what I meant and I
meant what I said because I did.
I want people to think that I bled dry for those I love
even though my tone was flat.
When my breath vacates my chest and my skin
settles into the earth, I want the world to take my
exhale as champagne in a plastic magenta chalice
from Target clearance.
I want people to think of pigeons—and doves. I want
people to think of pigeons as doves because pigeons
are doves. I want people to think of perception.
I want people to think of the moon: a chunk of lemon
glued to a punch-drunk sky moon; a spooky moon;
suede grey sky and marbled clouds with orb-light
clipped and blooming moon; harvest moon, bronzed
pregnant belly of the sky moon; blood moon spilling out your mouth moon.
I want people to think of cats and majestic
and whiskers.
I want people to think of the body’s resilient failure,
rising from bedspreads of fire and ash screaming “I
eat men like air” and then I did.
I want people to think of the warmth of sugar in the
blood; how humans can be sweet with disposition
soured with its exhaustion; the slow death of fatty
tissue; blushed shins.
I want people to think of the rigidity of backbone,
softened by nothing, clenched
knuckles like clenched teeth, perfect in its twisted flex.
I want people to believe that I got at least one thing right.
Let’s talk about the moon
Let’s talk about the moon: to be aware of your body
is to be in pain is the cracking
of a petrified spine is my back
flowering with spidering blossoms
of wrecked muscle flushed.
Let’s talk about the moon
no, let’s talk about menstruation
let’s talk about ebb & flow
let’s talk about iron
let's talk about shedding
let’s talk about the pooling
of aches leaking
dripping between the knees
let’s talk about wreckage.
Let’s talk about the moon —
barefoot, skin exposed,
breathing all the night sounds
night smells:
A/C hum and honey suckle.
Let’s talk to the moon
let’s talk to the moon
let’s talk to the tune of dial tone
let’s talk to the tome of uterine ache
let’s talk to the moon of my pain,
to the rune against shame, to the sigil
for relief burned into the blood bright night.
Sick Girl
Blood sick girl
Sugar sick girl
Womb sick girl
Spine sick girl
Curve sick girl
Gland sick girl
Sad sick girl
Can’t sit still sick girl
Get mad sick girl
Flip a table sick girl
Make you want to weep sick girl
Fly in the air sick girl
Still strong sick girl
Bi sick girl
What kinda bi sick girl
Yes sick girl
No sick girl
Inflammatory sick girl
Endometria sick girl
Rotting organ sick girl
Solitary sick girl
Basement carpet cry crawl sick girl
Clutching crystal sick girl
Sweet rose magic sick girl
Patient sick girl
Spine curl sick girl
Sleep forever sick girl
Forever ever sick girl
Make it halfway up the stairs sick girl
Psychosis sick girl
Ghost music in the room sick girl
Teeth grind sick girl
Needles in the skin sick girl
Deck sitting sick girl
Fluid sick girl
Pant suit sick girl
Thicker than liquor sick girl
Make love to yourself sick girl
Bedridden sick girl
Bed pearl sick girl
Nervous tick sick girl
Gonna be alright sick girl
Just wanna die sick girl
Make the same mistakes sick girl
Don’t want to be called sick girl
Over analytical sick girl
May magic sick girl
Felt tip pen sick girl
CBD sick girl
Sick of your shit sick girl
Shoulder check you into traffic sick girl
Abandoned sick girl
Clarifying sick girl
Horror movie sick girl
Diabetic sick girl
Type one sick girl
Carrot curl of ginger sick girl
Want to live in your palm sick girl
Balance seeking sick girl
Flesh curve sick girl
Thunder ocean sick girl
Cradled in the moon sick girl
Double twisted mermaid sick girl
Bloated belly sick girl
But you don’t look sick sick girl
Manhattan cherry sick girl
The expensive insurance sick girl
Coven 1207 sick girl
Serial single sick girl
Oak tree sick girl
Magnolia bloom sick girl
Sob sick girl
Cat peppered deck sick girl
Difficult kid sick girl
Middle child sick girl
Libra sick girl
Aries moon sick girl
October sick girl
Say what I mean sick girl
Mean what I say sick girl
Amethyst lipped sick girl
Magic sick girl
Witch sick girl
Mad sick girl
Guilt sick girl
Manic twitch sick girl
Dumpster fire sick girl
Pharmaceutical sick girl
Sick girl sick girl
Epic of a love sick girl
Not faint of heart sick girl
Not for the faint of heart sick girl
Carried by my legs sick girl
Flushed sick girl
Fall out sick girl
Fall risk sick girl
Hospital bracelet sick girl
Puritanical work ethic sick girl
Bohemian sick girl
Black shadow throat sick girl
Couch sink sick girl
Tea tincture sick girl
Sigil in my bra sick girl
Magic throat sick girl
Scream into the void sick girl
Standard transmission sick girl
Sick is a brand sick girl
Sick in chapters sick girl
Episodic sick girl
Stuck in liminal sick girl
Ghost skin sick girl
Moonsick sick girl
New moon ovulate sick girl
Get lit quit sick girl
Break onto the roof sick girl
Write this forever sick girl
Outside in the light sick girl
Wet feet on creek rocks sick girl
Open river soak sick girl
Soak sick girl
Wade out to the island sick girl
Out bathing in the lightening sick girl
Moonlight hour sick girl
Thunderstorm chest sick girl
Does what she wants sick girl
Worth the work sick girl
Let the storm roll in sick girl
Ready for your shit sick girl
Take up space sick girl
Waste away sick girl
Mandy May is a Baltimore MD based writer and designer. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing & Publishing Arts from the University of Baltimore. She is the author of the poetry chapbook Magic: Moon Tides Sing Violet Petals (Babe Press) and co-curated Nasty: an anthology celebrating dark spirits (Babe Press). Her work can be found in Journal Nine, Yes, Poetry; Ghost City Review; Moonchild Magazine; Breadcrumbs Magazine; The Light Ekphrastic; Baltimore Fishbowl; and elsewhere. She believes in ghosts, magic, and the splendor of a body failing. She has three cats. Follow her on Twitter @mayqueenofbees and Instagram @mandiesel.
Poetry by Sarah Cavar
Here is the river the sum
mer I seek to swim through, white light to sole.
A Playlist for The Star
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body), #Survivor: A Photo Series (forthcoming), and A Love Story (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press, 2021). They are the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault and the illustrator of Dead Tongue (Yes Poetry, 2020). They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College, and Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine.
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Photo Courtesy of Margaret Bienert
Interview with Margaret Bienert of A Pretty Cool Hotel Tour
Kailey Tedesco is the author of These Ghosts of Mine, Siamese (Dancing Girl Press) and the forthcoming full-length collection, She Used to be on a Milk Carton (April Gloaming Publications). She is the co-founding editor-in-chief of Rag Queen Periodical and a member of the Poetry Brothel. She received her MFA in creative writing from Arcadia University, and she now teaches literature at several local colleges. Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. You can find her work in Prelude, Bellevue Literary Review, Sugar House Review, Poetry Quarterly, Hello Giggles, UltraCulture, and more. For more information, please visit kaileytedesco.com.
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