nicole bennett

Ready for Texas by Nicole Bennett

Digging into the sweet potatoes with the two knives held between his ﬁngers like chopsticks, he asked me, “Where are you from again?” then told me he’d [...]

December 10, 2016

Pollen for the un-buried monster by Ashlie Allen

Grandma sat on the steps with me, not to spend time but to show me mercy. “You stink, little man.” she coughed. “Are [...]
Two Poems by Helen Wickes

January Dazzle What did we know then—clock ticking, spilled salt, and that one faucet— bitterly, bitterly. The heart [...]
Self Portrait with Sweet Red Wine by Mica Evans

I blot my lipstick in all the wrong places like on the lining of my goodwill purse my jacket sleeve the window on the back [...]
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 [...]
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 [...]
The wine label as poetry 3 by Lindsey Thaden

The wine label as poetry, 3 Ingredients for fermentation: Too Faced Better Than Sex Mascara Smashbox Halo Perfecting Powder [...]
No One Sees Until They’re Dead by Mary Julia Klimenko

Take me back to Italy where you threw my suitcase out of the third story window at midnight, and I screamed, “Fuck you.” [...]
A Photograph as a Photograph as is by Sarah Arantza Amador

Erika and I sit on a bench in front of the high school. I am in my sunglasses in the heat of the day, the day that I am [...]
Two Poems by Lynne Potts

FACTS, CHICKENS, AND TRAIN TRACKS Acquisition in the lobby of the El Rancho Hotel, Gallup New Mexico where the waitress [...]
Aspen Matis by Ted Guevara

Throw that cane away; let it bounce and belittle itself among the down rocks. And please don’t look back to cradle it like [...]
Facade by Ian Scott McCormick

Phil tried to remember what it was like when he went off to college, 25 years ago. He tried to remember what that state [...]
Killing My Grandmother’s Grandaughter and other poems by Kanika Lawton

I think my body will always be an euphemism for apology, always too tall or too short or too wide or too thin. My hips [...]