Spellbinding Reads: Forked

Not all poems are forks. And certainly not all forks are poems. Some are just forks. Some should really be spoons. Utensils, like writing, are tools for the job. Sporks are always useless.

Spellbinding Reads: Death

In tarot and in horror movies, death is only the beginning. In life, death is both an end and a beginning, as we must figure out how to move forward without someone, but keeping them with us.

Spellbinding Reads: Hot Take

It's been a hot, humid summer in New York. Sweaty, sticky. It's been a hot, political couple of years. Sweaty, sticky. We hope that fall will bring with it crisp weather and crisp apples, but the political stakes will only get higher and more hotly contested. Here, some pieces that feel the heat.

Spellbinding Reads: The Body

It can be easy to get stuck in your head. Especially writers obsess over our imaginations, turning over words until we find just the right one. Sometimes we forget that even the most ethereal ideas are being kept inside our physical selves. Selves that need to be fed and, more importantly, caffeinated. We are blood, bone, muscle, and fat. And at least some percent coffee.

Spellbinding Reads: Community

Writing may often be a solitary act, but being a writer is not a solitary identity. Scattered across the world are fellow writers supporting each other, sharing work and offering optimism after an unpersonalized rejection from a dream journal. This week's recommended readings come from writers we know either personally, from a reading event, or through the power (sometimes misused) of Twitter.

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