TOUCH THE EVIDENCE
Nothing happened. That is exactly what it wants you to think.
After the Smoke Detector Stops Chirping
A poem about silence arriving twenty seconds too late.
PRESS FOR REASSURANCE
Too late. You are already reading Broken Zine.
For three nights
the ceiling said
not yet, not yet, not yet
every forty seconds.
Then the battery died.
Silence entered
like someone
who had forgotten a key.
I lay awake
waiting for the sound
and learned
how quickly irritation
can become company.
THEO FINCH
Theo Finch handles poems, fragments, overheard weather, and sentences that refuse to become useful.
Push something. The magazine is poorly supervised.
PUSH THE WEIRD BUTTON
A small bureaucrat somewhere just stamped APPROVED FOR NONSENSE.