Story
The 9 Lives of Ray the Cat Jones
Stewart Home
I’m a face. My breakout from Pentonville in 1958 has been praised as one of the greatest prison escapes of all time by the likes of south London gangster Mad Frankie Fraser. The details differ somewhat in the various accou...
More...
Poem
Beaches in Cornwall, Apples in Devon, A Foot in London
Christopher Romero
draped Kelp and no lullaby thick sound from deep wonder ritual unconformed
to sea sutra canters
the silver egg’s path from studio
to rocks
near shore
to ocean soaked tidal pools lady lay day
heat mapped exposure turn...
More...
Story
Santa Barbara–1980 / San Francisco–1982
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...
More...
Art
Love and Strangulation
Carl Watson
The philosophers of the old romances say, and many specialists today concur, that desire is nothing more than the result of a necessary and continuous projection of the self into others; an unattainable wholeness is represen...
More...
Poem
The Calf
D. James Smith
Child of a dying wind it lay
In the muck and hot, blond grass
Below the dam and its strangled creek
That my boyhood friend and I
Crossed that morning, determined
To flee the nun’s black habits and ink,
To claim ...
More...
Story
Welcome to All the Pleasures
Robert C. Hardin
My father liked to say that I’d always been impossible to find. During birth, he recalled, I couldn’t be extracted with forceps. No one could see me, so I made my own way out of my mother. The midwife only located me aft...
More...
Story
Code of Violence
Thaddeus Rutkowski
On the subway, I see a boy who is about 10 years old; he’s with his father. Both of them have red hair, but the boy has Asian features—a round face and pointy eyes. His father has a long face and Western eyes. Maybe this...
More...
Story
The Storm
Peter Blauner
He liked to have his house in order, which was why he’d never had a family or pets. He liked his routines and there was nothing wrong with that. Every day in the summer months, he wore his father’s old Fire Department wi...
More...
Poem
Four Poems by Hal Sirowitz
Hal Sirowitz
Removing Her Boots
She took off
her boots and
said now she can
get down and dirty.
She got down
but before she
could get dirty,
she fell asleep.
Petting
She took me
to the petting zoo.
The only bad thing ...
More...
Art
Sensitive Skin 13
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 ...
More...
Story
Mesrine
Jacques Mesrine (translated by Catherine Texier & Robert Greene)
In late February 1972, all my friends finally ended up in block 2. The winter was harsh. We had more than three feet of snow. Right away, Jean-Paul Mercier became a close friend. We saw eye to eye about everything. I knew he...
More...
Classics
The Night I Fucked My Alarm Clock
Charles Bukowski
starving in philadelphia
i had a small room
it was evening going into night
and i stood at my window on the 3rd floor
in the dark and looked down into a
kitchen across the way on the 2nd floor
and i saw a beautiful blo...
More...
Essay
Drone Loops and the Signature of Bliss
Robert C. Hardin
The experience of bliss means different things to different people. For this frustratingly former arranger and studio keyboard player, euphoria is conditioned by the search for perfect sounds.
To me, bliss means the slow...
More...
Essay
Unfinished – A New Translation of Vladimir Mayakovsky’s Poem Fragment
Jenny Wade
Unfinished, a poem fragment by Vladimir Mayakovsky, discovered in M’s papers after his suicide in 1930.
Любит? не любит? Я руки ломаю
и пальцы разбрасываю разломавши
т�...
More...
Events
Poetry Month Release Reading at Bowery Poetry Club, 5-17-15
The Editors
To celebrate the release of Sensitive Skin #12, the Poetry Month special, we had a reading at the Bowery Poetry Club in NYC. About half of the published poets were able to make it. It was a lot of fun, but if you weren't the...
More...