Your Shoes, This City read more
Luisga Bou
“Shoo, shoo,” they say.
Okay. Okay. Will do. Out to the street.
My hands are dirty, and they stink of mice.
I ain’t remember losing my shoes and shirt, but I did.
Cement. Cobblestone. Bits of grass. No difference under numb toes...
No Contact
Sasha Debecvec-McKinney
“My body is getting used to not being fucked as much
as I want, whenever I want. The symptoms are numerous
but mostly it’s hemorrhoids. It’s to do with my appetite,
an unhappiness in my gut: I can’t have him back...
email: peachfuzzjournal@gmail.com | instagram: @peachfuzzjournal
Evan Bazel
O’Hara wrote Oranges then about Oranges and Sardines
In late March Love introduced me to Trader Joe’s chocolate-covered orange-jelly sticks
I stopped writing walls I reached out from the ashen balcony I tried to touch the treeline...