Vending Machine Press Issue #8
Photo by: Johannes Huwe The very fine writers for Issue 8 are: Dying To Leave By Ashlie Allen French Press by Hannah White Grateful Mother by Kayla Pongrac Two Poems by Carly [...]
Issue 8
Dying to Leave by Ashlie Allen
I made sure everyone was asleep before I tried again. I had nothing to carry just the weight of uncertainty. No one knew how miserable I was here. The reservation was my home [...]
French Press by Hannah White
I cannot be alone anymore. I surround myself with bodies that fill like packing peanuts the empty spaces of my emotions. I layer the voices of distant acquaintances like [...]
Two Poems by Carly Weiser
Sea Legs He’s checking the consistency of streetlamps around Gates Circle. Making sure when night falls they click together like synchronized swimmers. Streamline, [...]
Grateful Mother by Kayla Pongrac
When I was a child I owned a teddy bear that I leashed and dragged into supermarkets and banks and shopping malls. His eyes never changed shape and his smile never rotted [...]
Two Poems by Jenya Doudareva
Tightly Packed Sardines Forget the niceties And note the following: While you are tightly packed Like sardines in a can, Witnessing the gradual (But sure) disintegration Of [...]
Part of the Same Being by Nina Ficenec
We decided to cut out of the mill early, grab a case of beer and just drive, drive, Jay’s knuckles white against the steering wheel, floor boards rattling with bottles as [...]
Two Poems by Helen Picard
Rusty Rood From the second floor window, the red roof of the house next door reflected A strange, rusty glow at twilight. In the summer, bugs would be caught in the purgatory [...]
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 sticky with mafia points. Mania minimizes its [...]
Diner Hearts by Benjamin Blake
Waitress smiles as she sets down my coffee All I can offer in return is a fleeting glance into her eyes Well received, but hopeless when I bite my tongue Hunched over a [...]
A Frosty Laburnum Morning While Listening To Duck Stab! by David R Miller
Mildly stoned, with my elbows supported by the back deck railing, I leant forward toward the expanse of unmown lawn that shaped the rear yard. The grass was taller, and it [...]
What She’s Made Of by Vincent Anioke
Stacey came over today. Her pink hair ribbon was gone, replaced by a sort of butterfly comb that raked through her auburn tufts. I felt the outline of the comb, my fingers [...]
