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First Time In Paradise? by Gary Berg

It was still dark when he pulled out of the truck stop and headed up Highway 99 to Chico, a toothpick out the side of his mouth and a belly full of coffee. The fucking [...]

December 1, 2014

Two Poems by Chelsea Eckert

THE ASEXUAL “I am sorry for your loss,” he said when I mentioned that after ten some- odd years of psychotropics, I was a sort of celibate Barbie doll. And I told him [...]

December 1, 2014

Two Poems by Meredith Maltby

Loophole At a party getting to know all the cute space time continuums, I wasn’t spiraling, just getting my name out there, testing the waters in bodies not my own. A cup [...]

December 1, 2014

How to Explain to Your Ex Why Their X-Ray’s Your Desktop by Margaryta Golovchenko

Her mother named her White Dahlia, the consequence of unplanned pregnancy while studying forensics. Or so she told the boy selling orchids in popcorn bags (he ran out of [...]

December 1, 2014

Duct-Taped Wedding Bells by Grace Montgomery

I haven’t told you I’ve been sleeping on the floor the past six nights in a row. It’s probably because three pages of your slightly-drunken handwriting are taped above [...]

December 1, 2014

Let He Who Is Without by Kevin Brown

She carved my sins in soil we left untended, remains of a garden from the previous owners, letting time and wind wear them away in a week, maybe two, at most, while her [...]

December 1, 2014

Vending Machine Press Issue #6

Dear Readers, Welcome to the new issue of Vending Machine Press. We would to thank everyone in the writing community for being so kind to us in our rookie year. I hope you [...]

October 1, 2014

Cardboard City by Paul Tristram

The Winter winds blow cold and hard under the desolate railway bridge but at least he won’t be waking up to a policeman urinating upon him this far out from the city [...]

October 1, 2014

Patience, Dear by Ira Herbold

I am waiting in a darkened room, facing the door, hands on knees. I am waiting for Christianity to seem plausible. I am waiting for certainty, for it to wake me in the night [...]

October 1, 2014

South to Savannah by Chris Campanioni

The sun came through the dashboard and died under another overpass, air as thick as dreams, wanting as you might sometimes consider just about everything: a crimson sunset [...]

October 1, 2014

Driving Through Fog by AJ Huffman

Highway markers tick by, blurry sentinels barely breaking the monotony of trees, their black skeletal arms directing me onward. My mind gives them life, watches them rise [...]

October 1, 2014

New Place by Rebecca Guest

The promise of newly painted walls lining empty rooms, a kind of hubris that sings up your arms, popping goosepimples of possibility Moving and heaving and labor, the cutting [...]

October 1, 2014

Loss is by April Salzano

not the contact paper on broken walls, the hammock no one used, the black strap that didn’t seem able to stop the badness. At forty, I finally understand—loss is not not [...]

October 1, 2014

The Silver Birch by Vincent O’Connor

In the garden of my deceased dad there stood a single tree. It bore no fruit, offered no druids’ code, brought forth no metaphors of use. It gave us only shade and aerial [...]

October 1, 2014

Example 52 by JD DeHart

That lack of response to my chance Good Morning, the stare when I wave hello, yet another example of why I dislike most examples of our species, another reason to say, as the [...]

October 1, 2014

Queen City by Richard Luftig

If the world comes to an end, I want to be in Cincinnati. Everything comes there ten years later. – Attributed to Mark Twain. This is the town that turned its back to the [...]

October 1, 2014

Two Poems by Daniel Wallock

Barren Walking in, the hallow, whites of, the moonlight, my heart beats, silent hums. My eyes, shed frozen, tears, and my mind, wanders over, her lips. Her touch, sweeping, [...]

October 1, 2014

Vending Machine Press Issue #5

Dear Readers, Welcome to the new issue of Vending Machine Press. The quality of the writers we have encountered so far pleases us greatly. It keeps exceeding our [...]

August 1, 2014

Photophobia by Bobbi Lurie

I pray he will eat. I know he won’t let me make him food. His fear of wasting water overwhelms him so he rushes to turn off the kitchen faucet. He won’t drink [...]

August 1, 2014

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sometimes people ask me if i’m mad and i say no by Shy Watson

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Past Contributors

  • Vending Machine Press Issue #13

      Photo by: Johannes Huwe The very fine writers for issue 13 are: A Milton Bradley Game by Hilary Sideris Radio Truth [...]
  • Reconnecting with Mira by Prachi Jain

    From:  janya@yahoo.com To:  miracares@yahoo.com Subject:  I Am Sorry Mira, I have been thinking about you for a long time [...]
  • Rolling Papers by Audrey El-Osta

    it was papercraft + origami, it was incensory + aromatic. You made an art of it when you taught me how to roll my cigarettes [...]
  • Angry Young Man by Raphael Maurice

    I dropkicked the Holy Book before the morning Mass. You don’t, barring dreamless sleeps & drugs, tend to believe all [...]
  • Three Poems by Jacqueline Markowski

    Mania Pulls six figures living paycheck to paycheck, a dry tongue away from homelessness. It takes out steel window loans [...]
  • Sea Shanties by Alicia Bones

    1. Couple years ago, I bought a boiled crab off a man on the pier. I’d just started eating it when someone shouted, [...]
  • Let He Who Is Without by Kevin Brown

    She carved my sins in soil we left untended, remains of a garden from the previous owners, letting time and wind wear them [...]
  • The wine label as poetry, 1 by Lindsey Thäden

    CHIM CHIM CHAROO-VINEYARDS Gold Label Reserve Chom Chomerlot MAHASKA COUNTY 2015 A drop of our Dutch vintner’s robust [...]
  • Homeward and other poems by MJ Santiago

    I thought I remembered digging into your soft sides, dripping splinters on the ground. And after that a hole remained. We [...]
  • Off Season & Real Image, Lens, Virtual Image by Jenya Doudareva

    Off Season Sticky heat, sounds of electrical lines, traffic, commotion – all gone. The blue of the sky is crispier, [...]
  • This Isn’t a Funeral by K. Barber

    It is a sticky August afternoon, and flies keep landing on me like I’m a corpse. “Emily,” my mother [...]
  • this fish has no circadian rhythm (and it’s better off for it) by Chloe DeFilippis

    the cicada in you sits on a rusted clothesline in the backyard a bird chased you into the sky once i had scarlet fever once [...]
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