Sensitive Skin Magazine - Page 11 of 77 - art, stories, poetry, essays, reviews and music

Prismed Autumn (an Imitation)

Robert C. Hardin

Prismed Autumn (an Imitation) You who denigrate the Fall as nature’s end: Have you beheld the brilliance of its dying? It is not cloaked in mourning, weighted by some sable hood, but nakedly chromatic, varie...

BECAUSE

Yuko Otomo

BECAUSE I. Because I love to say, “I love flowers because they are beautiful.” It sounds too simple, naïve & almost silly to express my fee...

The Rabbit and the Rat

Jokie X Wilson

The Rabbit and the Rat The stones are worn Although not quickly Insanity led the ocean to fall And rise again in revenge But with a peaceful motive at hand All went well for a short time Until the human control fell...

If the threat is a symbol

Christine Gardiner

The Winnowing

Michael Lindgren

The Winnowing is nigh. I heard the voices calling in the night I sensed the stream of ones & zeros flickering soundlessly. The keening word has been given handed down from on high How many, out of how...

Hairline Fractures

Peter Marra

Hairline Fractures Pale colors She lay awake afraid to move Shocked by her own murder lusts A long silver needle slowly had been inserted in her mind the ecstatic corporate scientists were Injecting multiple obje...

   SCANNING FOR MONKS

Marc Olmsted

   SCANNING FOR MONKS Ambitition - my breaker of worlds = disappointment's king & chief ally of wake=up! Sipping bad coffee scanning for monks there's a lot I won't do now for your rottentooth deals -...

Any Other Street

Francine Witte

Any Other Street would be made of asphalt, black pitch pillowing in the August heat. But this street is woven with bones and ash and anything else leftover when a dream dies. It’s the kind of street you try to av...

Die Harder Inside

Jane Ormerod

Die Harder Inside A hand. Wheels. Silver nodding, coffee, the inward flight. Trust Los Angeles. Collect and die. The baggage of toe fist and bear co-and-op-and-corp-oration. Frosty riding. (Live to thirty then flee when...

The Wrong Day

Vincent Katz

The Wrong Day it was so beautiful today, the most perfect of ones lighted on bricks and the last walkings toward figures one had seen all summer and would see again and my parents arrived last night after being dela...