todd mercer

Nightswimmer Poems by Todd Mercer

Hazard Warning, Ludington Beach closed, high surf warning. Turbid storm waves churn out there six or seven feet. Unsafe, they say, but now’s ideal for me. I leave the car [...]

October 23, 2017

Green Light by Lauren Jonik

April 1, 2014

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” The familiar recording echoed throughout the subway car. As if on cue, the [...]
Autumn leaves and other poems by Alison Znamierowski

October 23, 2017

Autumn Leaves with Pictures we opened each other like maps explored, traced our fingers along every outline, got utterly and [...]
Sight-Seeing New York City Fall 2001 by Jonathan Church

September 4, 2017

A blind man steps onto the N train at 59th Street. He turns his head and seems to wait for a stranger to gently grasp his [...]
Diner Hearts by Benjamin Blake

February 1, 2015

Waitress smiles as she sets down my coffee All I can offer in return is a fleeting glance into her eyes Well received, but [...]
Vending Machine Press Issue #14

March 19, 2016

Photo by: Johannes Huwe The very fine writers for issue 14 are: Summer Storm and Birds by Jason Brightwell I Want To Be Like [...]
Rock Pools by F.C Malby

January 18, 2017

‘Look, a starfish, bright orange. Look at it.’ Sophie points to the ripples in the rock pool, her pigtails drop down [...]
Four Poems by Sloane Eliot

December 1, 2014

oxytocin waste of time on the sonogram, our mistake looked like an eclipse it felt like staring at the sun i looked until i [...]
The Politicks of My Body by Jacklyn Janeksela

February 13, 2017

The politicks of my body goes like this. It’s none of your fucking business. My body is mine –whatever that means, but [...]
Coffee and Cigarettes and other poems by Benjamin Blake

March 1, 2019

Coffee & Cigarettes Sometimes, life doesn’t seem so bad A pot of black coffee brewing on the kitchen counter Cigarette [...]
Turtle and Hare by Chloe Clark

April 1, 2014

If loss were a mathematical concept— a subtraction, a division, a formula for invisible numbers, then how does one [...]
Garden Before The Move by Jean C. Howard

March 19, 2016

Like an old movie, sepia tone soaking through light falling frame by frame, slow death rattling across the pavers, Or even [...]
Later now, but and other poems by Ed Higgins

June 13, 2017

I can still remember how we kissed then the buzz of bees in our head. Or was it the Zinfandel we had with Reuben sandwiches [...]