Welcome to Vending Machine Press First Birthday Issue #7
Photo by Johannes Huwe Dear Readers, Welcome to Issue 7 of Vending Machine Press. This is a special issue as it is our First Birthday Issue. We hope you dig all the stories [...]
Issue 7
Knock Wood by Shae Krispinsky
I met Valerie when I was working on her parent’s house. It was me and Jack and the other guys on our team swinging hammers and sawing and sweating in the sun. Her [...]
Four Poems by Justin Hyde
after your best friend’s wedding we stood naked in front of the hotel mirror arms behind each other’s backs marveling at our youth electric to start our own family [...]
Four Poems by Sloane Eliot
oxytocin waste of time on the sonogram, our mistake looked like an eclipse it felt like staring at the sun i looked until i was blind (turned out there was nothing to see) [...]
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 [...]
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 [...]
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 [...]
Five Poems by Quinn White
Public Works A woman waits for the bus. She drags a wooden chair onto her porch. I hear keys in her purse. Morning, quiet. I walk to sweat-out last night’s vodka. I see [...]
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 [...]
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 [...]
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 [...]
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