TOUCH THE EVIDENCE
Nothing happened. That is exactly what it wants you to think.
Poem Found in a Laundromat Dryer
A small poem about lint, quarters, and the private weather of lost things.
PRESS FOR REASSURANCE
Too late. You are already reading Broken Zine.
Inside the dryer
someone left a blue sock,
a receipt for peaches,
three quarters warm as teeth.
I fed the machine
and watched my shirts
throw themselves against the glass
like weather with no place to go.
For thirty-two minutes
everything lost
looked busy enough
to be called a life.
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.