Puma Perl

I had to shit on someone to make this money! shrieked Lani, I need you to get me off! Now! Lani had translucent skin and tiny, spidery veins. Usually, I could find a place to hit her but she’d done some serious damage o...

Francine Witte

Every night when the sun sets, I see her. Just over my shoulder like a blind spot in the rearview. Always. Been like this forever. I tell this to my best friend Al, and she laughs her giggly laugh, the one that makes me ...

B. Kold

I’m ineligible to serve on a jury. Whenever I’m selected for jury duty, I never make it past the first voir dire—the part where the defense and district attorneys interview prospective jurors to ensure they’re not bi...

Matt McLaren

Santa Barbara–1980 I didn’t have a mattress yet. it had been three months, but I still lay in my room on my dirty clothes, arranged under a fitted sheet. Ron stood in my doorway, leaning against the jamb. He stared at...

Julia Kissina

Photographs by Julia Kissina from the "Fairies" project, from 1997-98. Julia Kissina is a photographer and writer born in Kiev, Ukraine. She graduated from the Academy of Arts in Munich in 1998 and now lives in Berlin. Her w...

Justin Clifford Rhody

I’ve been working on the Horse Track Portrait series almost every Sunday for three years now at the Golden Gate Fields horse track in Berkeley. All the photos are of anonymous people at the edge of the track fence during t...

The Editors

Presenting Sensitive Skin 13, the Crime Special, featuring a multitude of criminally insane artists and writers. Sensitive Skin 13 features original fiction from Peter Blauner (Slow Motion Riot, The Intruder), Thaddeus ...

The Editors

What a Poetry Month it's been! Special thanks to Winston Smith for the back cover. Here's links to all 30 posts: April 1 - John S. Hall and Rick Prol April 2 - Bonny Finberg and Charles Gatewood April 3 - JD King April...

Michael Carter

for Seamus Heaney In a cold stone cabin In a deserted Cill Rialaig solstice-tide, West wind wailing through drafty rafters, Enounced aloud “Hrothgar Skyldinga” & your Beowulf by turf-light, Huddled in checkered ...

Norman Douglas

1. fuck you fuck you fuck you scribbled the self- proclaimed, officially acclaimed, pharmaceutically addle-brained bourgeois poet in morning electric’s light. okay, i added the burgher bit because i’m talking cit...

David Rattray

The wife spoke to me by name: “Thanks so much for coming, David.” Some didn’t want to see him. One wouldn’t even go in. I did. I touched his hand. It was as if he were only sleeping, soft and warm. I never ...

John Farris

Today the world is wet & white: everybody tries to throw the snow back (a girl, determined, handles a shovel gingerly, sends a pile of it scattering; it flies to the court below, exposing a red-stained Kreolite stair, ...

Eddie Woods

LINDA “songs like a practiced whore who turns away from no one but the one who loves her.” --Djuna Barnes How deathly strange it all seems— especially here on the thin edge of passion, ...