Thing Thing Itself is always searching for new talent or old veterans to be featured in our monthly reading series. If you are interested in being a featured reader for our reading series, please contact our Editor-in-Chief, David Hale at
Dear Readers, I am very proud to announce that The Thing Itself will hold its first open mic reading on November 16th at The Twig Bookshop. This event will be from 5-7, and I expect a great turnout. We at
Pink combs, red nail polish, the smell of fabric softener. I sat there on a white lounge chair, combing through my mother’s hair, as she sat at my feet on the deck below me. She was dozing off; her head
Hay muchos recuerdos que tenemos de nuestra niñez; mi primera memoria es de una mano gentil y cariñosa pero aun dura y “callosienta,” la mano lentamente me acariciaba al dormir. Entre las caricias de amor y de ternura sentí un
A pile of leaves blew into the street. An elderly lady stepped off the curb and swept them into another pile. A car passed, swerving towards the center of the road, so as not to hit her. She continued sweeping.
[one_half]The other night, while being driven home by my father I saw a mountain of a woman Crying on the curb of a gas station She had on her favorite fluorescent pink wind-shorts And her hair was up in rollers
[one_half][/one_half] our history has been caught for a moment and maybe a lifetime in the perils of the sea it has been left for the sharks to devour it all that we contain in one blood stained battle of thrashing
The clouds capture rays From the sunset haze; They begin to clear As night draws near. The sun reflects its light Onto the moon, and into the night. The stars they twinkle As they part to be single. I see