Sensitive Skin Magazine - Page 53 of 62 - art, stories, poetry, essays, reviews and music

145 South 4th Street

Sean Flaherty

In the span of three months: my friend's wife died in a car accident, his infant son was diagnosed with brain cancer and the company where he worked for twenty years went belly up. Considering the fragility implied by this,...

Gil Scott Heron RIP

City of Strangers

I discovered Gil Scott Heron the summer of 1991, after I returned to Montreal following a riotous five months in NYC. It was the first time I'd lived in the city, and I felt like I'd caught the tail end of an era. In one s...

What I Did Today Chapbooks

Ron Kolm

Dan Waber is a terrific poet, and he owns a bookstore in Pennsylvania: Paper Kite Books on 443 Main Street, in Kingston. He also publishes several lines of chapbooks, but the one we’re interested in here is put out under ...

Crack

Jose Padua

I can’t tell whether the flowers are falling or floating in this painting just as I can’t tell wh...

Weeks After the Tsnumai

Lyn Lifshin

LETTER DAYS AFTER THE TSUNAMI the last few days everything was in chaos. When I close my eyes, I see dead bodies. When I open my eyes I see dead bodies. Each of us must work 20 hours a day. I wish there were 48 hours in the...

Virginia

Jose Padua

Let happiness lie like a dog on your lap, Virginia, state of green, state of mountain roads, and tackler of new centuries, but don’t get upset if we leave you. Virginia, let your vagina set you free or get out ...

BEER MYSTIC Burp #7: Beer = Liquid Cartoonist

bart plantenga

BEER MYSTIC Burp #7 X-Large I see is the new large in clothing sizes. Size matters, so now a medium cup is like a trough of soda at McSubWenNuggests. They even try to super-size you when you rent a car, from an obese sedan ...

Unnamed Oysters.

Marguerite Van Cook

My hands dripped mud as we counted out ten thousand tiny oysters for seeding, but it was not the slime that disturbed me, rather it was my fear of losing count. James anxiously scooped the plastic pail into the mother va...

Eve To The Serpent

Bonny Finberg

Smoking star, listen to me. Call the stain to your hand. Go-I’m ready to burn. Has caffeine a tiger’s kiss? Be wild, shove the sequestered kiss with force and school me in your pause. Is this blood clean as the sea? Make...

P-Funk Reshapes the Landscape of the Redneck Town I Live In and Other Acts of Reformation and Reconstruction

Jose Padua

Behind the wheel listening to P-Funk in my new neighborhood the blank stare of the shirtless Larry the Cable Guy lookalike sharpens to crystal clarity as his lazy slouch straightens up into a confident strut and the words ...

Sensitive Skin Salon – Jennifer Adams

Jennifer Adams

To celebrate the release of our sixth issue, we had a salon out in Brooklyn early in June. Here's the first video from that event, Jen Adams reading her excellent story "Medium". http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQ4PFxZ87B4...

BEER MYSTIC Burp #6: Plagiarism and Unpaid-for Beer in a Paris Swamp

bart plantenga

BEER MYSTIC Burp #6 We made a toast. “To he who casts the first kidney stone.” Clink of beer glasses, tink-tink, small amber waves sloshing over the sides, beer-head mustaches as our only disguise in the Pik-Clops in th...

On These Days Driving

Jose Padua

Perfection is all those horrible old love affairs they tell their latest lover about in bed as they smoke ci...

BEER MYSTIC Burp #5: A Mental Jersey Leads to Spirited Beer Consumption

bart plantenga

BEER MYSTIC Burp #5 Before Jersey Shore was a TV show, it was already a socio-anthropological phenomenon of some steroidal bonehead beach bum magnitude. Summers were and still are an excuse for so-called [or seemingly] norma...

Why Drunken Poets Need to Procreate

Jose Padua

If it were somehow obligatory that I sum up my existence with a single sentence—or perhaps with just a phrase and a simple image—I’d be at a loss. I would, in fact, feel quite helpless, as if I were trapped in some h...