I was happy in the factory. I met my now- ex-husband, I made good money, I had vacation time. I was in a union. Where else can you get a job with those kinds of perks?

Nothing about loving you is ice, or cold. Well, maybe your feet. Mine,
too.

And so here we stand, face to face at the end of our long day, staring into each other’s red, drooping eyes, the sore bare soles of our feet cooling on the bathroom tile…

Still chirping. Still flapping. Still finding and gathering odd and precious gems of literary mischief from around the world, and still presenting them in our cozy little nest of mayhem. And happily so.

For more information on Mr. Bastarache, please click on to the Artist’s Bio link.

Somehow, despite punishing poverty, they gave their hard-earned shekels, rubles, zloty (Polish $$$) to a traveling photographer to take their picture. Why did they feel the need to have their picture taken?

Writer and poet Mindy Ohringer was a contributor to the Thieving Magpie’s Issue 2. She considers the intersection […]

It’s one of me, spitting
out bones. Bones in
my mouth so long
I thought they were
necessary teeth.

Katy Joy Richardson lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee with her ride-or-die dog, Bingley. Her work can also be seen […]