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delicious new poetry
Writing Prompts for Threshold Times
September 4, 2026
Writing Prompts for Threshold Times
September 4, 2026
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September 4, 2026
'come lie by me in the pasture' — poetry by Renee Kalagayan
September 3, 2026
'come lie by me in the pasture' — poetry by Renee Kalagayan
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'In this world I kept happening' — poetry by Oladejo Abdullah Feranmi
September 3, 2026
'In this world I kept happening' — poetry by Oladejo Abdullah Feranmi
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'the azaleas all make gruel out of me' — poetry by Anya Johanna DeNiro
September 3, 2026
'the azaleas all make gruel out of me' — poetry by Anya Johanna DeNiro
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'silk and rivers' — poetry by Zavi Kang Engles
September 3, 2026
'silk and rivers' — poetry by Zavi Kang Engles
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'death and a mountain view' — poetry by Emily Brandt
September 3, 2026
'death and a mountain view' — poetry by Emily Brandt
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'the incense of my bed chamber ' — poetry by Katja Jackson
September 3, 2026
'the incense of my bed chamber ' — poetry by Katja Jackson
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'bruises confettied as raspberries' — poetry Chelsea Fonden
September 3, 2026
'bruises confettied as raspberries' — poetry Chelsea Fonden
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'you were obsessed. a monster.' — poetry by Kathleen Hellen
September 3, 2026
'you were obsessed. a monster.' — poetry by Kathleen Hellen
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'Seas of her marooned organs' — poetry by Shon Mapp
September 3, 2026
'Seas of her marooned organs' — poetry by Shon Mapp
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'a ghost house of Sicily' — poetry by Edvige Giunta
September 3, 2026
'a ghost house of Sicily' — poetry by Edvige Giunta
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'Are the clouds full of well-water?' — poetry by Johanna E. Hall
September 3, 2026
'Are the clouds full of well-water?' — poetry by Johanna E. Hall
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September 3, 2026
'seals her-self in the confession box' — poetry by Spencer Keene
September 3, 2026
'seals her-self in the confession box' — poetry by Spencer Keene
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'bloody with sunset' — poetry by Will Cordeiro
September 3, 2026
'bloody with sunset' — poetry by Will Cordeiro
September 3, 2026
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September 3, 2026
'dream in locusts' — poetry by Vi Ly
August 15, 2026
'dream in locusts' — poetry by Vi Ly
August 15, 2026
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August 15, 2026
'plastic chair, watermelon, generator exhaust, benzene' — poetry by Hana Saad
August 15, 2026
'plastic chair, watermelon, generator exhaust, benzene' — poetry by Hana Saad
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August 15, 2026
' I am brutally killed by daffodils' — poetry by Emily Tong
August 14, 2026
' I am brutally killed by daffodils' — poetry by Emily Tong
August 14, 2026
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August 14, 2026
'violet scabbing on ankle backs' — poetry by Lexi Rosen
August 14, 2026
'violet scabbing on ankle backs' — poetry by Lexi Rosen
August 14, 2026
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August 14, 2026
'it was something more gory' — poetry by Caroline O'Connor Thomas
August 14, 2026
'it was something more gory' — poetry by Caroline O'Connor Thomas
August 14, 2026
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August 14, 2026
'I’ll accept delight’s gloom' — poetry by Hazelyn Aroian
August 14, 2026
'I’ll accept delight’s gloom' — poetry by Hazelyn Aroian
August 14, 2026
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August 14, 2026
'every hour is one long suffering' — poetry by Anne Halsey
August 14, 2026
'every hour is one long suffering' — poetry by Anne Halsey
August 14, 2026
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August 14, 2026
'a terrible countenance for what nourishes' — poetry by I Echo
August 14, 2026
'a terrible countenance for what nourishes' — poetry by I Echo
August 14, 2026
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August 14, 2026
'I am the aftermath' — poetry by Taylor Hamann Los
August 14, 2026
'I am the aftermath' — poetry by Taylor Hamann Los
August 14, 2026
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August 14, 2026
'as if landscapes verdant' — poetry by Kacey Martin
August 14, 2026
'as if landscapes verdant' — poetry by Kacey Martin
August 14, 2026
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August 14, 2026
'a wasp  giving itself to the fig' — poetry by Elaina Edwards
August 14, 2026
'a wasp giving itself to the fig' — poetry by Elaina Edwards
August 14, 2026
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August 14, 2026
'ghosts in hair follicles' — poetry by Trish hopkinson
August 14, 2026
'ghosts in hair follicles' — poetry by Trish hopkinson
August 14, 2026
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August 14, 2026
'roses among men' — poetry by Amy Thatcher
August 14, 2026
'roses among men' — poetry by Amy Thatcher
August 14, 2026
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August 14, 2026
Writing prompts for a fever dream summer
August 3, 2026
Writing prompts for a fever dream summer
August 3, 2026
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August 3, 2026
'bloodsponge rubies & wicked diamonds' — poetry by Emily Murman
August 3, 2026
'bloodsponge rubies & wicked diamonds' — poetry by Emily Murman
August 3, 2026
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August 3, 2026
'beauty is the last thing before death' — poetry by Francis de Lima
August 3, 2026
'beauty is the last thing before death' — poetry by Francis de Lima
August 3, 2026
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August 3, 2026

Slow Alchemy: 6 Ways To Live Magically

May 10, 2021

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

Welcome to SLOW ALCHEMY — a column for creatives, magic-makers, and dreamers. A space dedicated entirely to the pleasurable, soft, & intentional things we savor. For in-between moments and small breaks.

This is a space of joy. A space of pause. This is a space for process over urgency. For music and bread and memory. This is a space where creativity is divine and chiseled with care. A space where we watch the particles floating in the afternoon light — together. Take your time.

Magic is in and of everything; it’s the buttery afternoon light, the way the trees sway in a rainstorm, Saint-Saens playing from one room in your home, a shell sitting atop your mantle.

If spells are crafted with intention and action, how can we make our lives a living spell?

We live our lives swimming in movement: Long hours, families, ill bodies, work, chores, supporting community, creativity (if we’re lucky). We are expected to live both our physical lives and as avatars — calling toward the masses, trying to make meaning, trying to connect. On one hand, the magic is in the connection; on the other, the magic can be drained quieted, and harder to access through all the noise.

I’ve found — through immense trial and error — that magic is already in, of, and around us; sometimes it’s a matter of clearing away the proverbial, or energetic, dust to see it. Of course, life demands a lot of us. I realized, over the past year in lockdown, that my body was in Go-Mode at all times. I was always exhausted, guilty for being exhausted, and deprioritizing my magic and wellbeing in ways I hadn’t noticed until I made some time to return to them.

The reality is, we can’t live intentionally and magically every day, all day — but we can try to infuse our days with slow alchemy in small, sustainable ways.

It’s all bout going slower, going deeper, and tuning in.

Watch the moon move through the zodiac and write a poem about it.

The Moon is the palace of feelings and memories and emotions. It’s the dark mansion whose doors are often kept shut, but whose rooms hold a place of truth and power. Tuning into where the moon is at — the moon changes zodiac signs every 2-3 days — gives us a chance to feel certain feelings and tune into our emotional world through the lens of each sign. What does the Moon in the sign of Cancer make you feel? What about Taurus?

Writing a poem specifically channeled by meditating on the moon sign helps us establish routine and emotional connectivity — and it deepens our relationship to the celestial. No need to publish or perfect these poems; they are for you. They are your heart language.

Create a sacred space for creativity

Screen Shot 2021-05-09 at 7.50.33 PM.png

Although I’ve been writing professionally for more than a decade, I’ve not had a real writing desk. This may seem bizarre, but living in NYC means small or shared spaces — and desks just weren’t a priority for many years. Now that I have a bit more space in my new home, I’ve set up a desk for myself. It is for writing. It is adorned with candles and crystals and jewelry and neroli perfume and plantlife and mirrors and photographs and books of poetry. It is the space where I channel, translate, dream, feel, and heal.

I recommend creating a space for yourself that feels beautiful, that isn’t cramped, and that lets you breathe. Simply be in the space. Teach yourself — and the space — that you are a collaborative force, and that one of the Great Works you can do together is…to do nothing. Sit there. Love your belongings: dust them off, tend to them, arrange them often. Notice the energy and tend to it. This is a workspace, but it also a joy space. The spell is cast when you let yourself turn a space of generativity and work into a space of safety and softness, long quiet moments, and slow magic.

Cultivate one new creative hobby without the intent to perfect or sell it.

Screen Shot 2021-05-09 at 7.50.18 PM.png

As writers or artists, our passions become our work. We sell our offerings. We blur the line between creativity for healing and creativity for consumption — and that’s complicated, but for many of us, it’s also ok! In fact, it may even be your dream. But having a creative hobby that isn’t about being perfect or famous or making money calls back to childhood pleasures, when we just wanted and did and felt and made without purpose. We simply did it because we wanted to. A private, personal hobby is a way to unapologetically explore, play, and mess up — and to call on the energy of art and invention.

I’ve been making candles and decoupaging shells to make into jewelry dishes. They’re probably a bit horrible looking but they're mine — and they’re keeping an imaginative, curious part of my mind alive. By learning, envisioning, intending, and doing, I am casting a spell. I am present and I am full of the moment. I am embodied by my own creativity, and honoring it because pleasure is magic. It takes time to learn a new skill, so go slow. Mess up. Watch videos. Read books about it. And make the journey about nothing more than The Doing. You have nothing to prove.

Speak the language of flowers.

Screen Shot 2021-05-09 at 7.50.24 PM.png

In The Language of Flowers, Vanessa Diffenbaugh writes, “Anyone can grow into something beautiful.” I think flowers can teach us that. They tell us that from seedlings, we each have an opportunity to bloom. Perhaps you are yellow. Maybe I am blue. And that is perfect.

Flowers teach us about color magic. They teach us about local botany. They teach us about making a house into a home. They teach us about death, decay, and preservation. They teach us about living things. They teach us to fill a space with intention.

If you have access to flowers — even a single flower — rotate them in and out of your space. Take note of which colors inspire you, how they make you feel, and what the flowers are whispering to you from across the room.

Embrace a monthlong lunar practice for self-understanding

lmdt-lmb-grimoire.jpg

For those of you who love to work with the moon, this practice is the ultimate slow magic practice. It will help you track your mood, better understand yourself, determine which areas of your life need extra love or support, and find ways to increase joy. The point is to not go for instant gratification but to develop a practice that you turn to again and again for a few moments each day. The magic is in the process, the unfolding, and in the returning-to. This is from my book, Light Magic for Dark Times.

Materials

  • Paper

  • Something to write with

  • A mason jar

  • Optional: Decorations (e.g., crystals, flowers, shells, or other small decorative items)

Start this practice at the new moon. At the end of each day, write on a single piece of paper your daily mood and the day’s lesson: What did you learn? What did you realize? What do you need to focus on? You may also track specific things (e.g., creativity, self-esteem, health, energy levels). On the back of the paper write down the moon phase.

Place this in a mason jar (which you can beautify by filling it with crystals or flowers or shells) and keep this at the window under the moonlight—your goal here is to really connect with Luna. 

At the end of the entire moon cycle (by the time the moon reaches its new phase again, moving from waxing to full to waning to new), you’ll have tracked an entire cycle’s worth of self. 

Empty your mason jar. Lay out each piece of paper and write, in your grimoire, what you learned. You may see patterns emerge, so start connecting the dots with how your feel and the phases of the moon. Are you more imaginative during the full moon? Integrating the moon’s cycles into your life may help you get in tune with yourself and nature. 

—

Follow me on INSTAGRAM and TWITTER.

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.

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.

In Slow Alchemy Tags magic, spellwork, slow magic
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Featured
'dream in locusts' — poetry by Vi Ly
Vi Ly
Vi Ly
'dream in locusts' — poetry by Vi Ly
Vi Ly
Vi Ly
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Vi Ly
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