Zines were in the news recently
(https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2023/nov/28/zines-exhibition-brooklyn-museum-art)

What’s a zine you might ask? It’s a small print run, usually small sized, amateur magazine. Often using photocopied pages, hand stapled, and it can be very unpolished in terms of content, but ...

See me, I’m a curled up joint of broken reflections
Save me the medicine, I’m lookin’ at you.
Hear me, I’m a howling chorus breaking drums
Save me the medicine, I’m talking to you.
Feel me, I’m sore, bare and cold feeling everything
Save me ...

Inhale, the calm of a time now broken
Exhale, the balm of a sinister grave
Inhale, the song of a star awakened
Exhale, the gong of an ominous day
Inhale, the fang of a blood still aching
Exhale, the bang of a beautiful way


NaaN (Now, always and Never)

Frozen ripples cracking in the glade
Blades so fine in between
Solemn metals clashing in the field
Yields of time in between
Broken rattles gatling in the cold
Molds to mind in between


NaaN (Now, always and Never)

Your heart’s beating inside the hourglass
Orbiting your soul system it comes to pass
Begging for a new season to amass
Alas, white shadows still lasts–shrinking
But the earth is now drinking and the silver shifts to brass
Your heart’s still beating in the hourglass


NaaN (Now ...

Lights upon a fading sky.
Whipping the night to encircle the dead
Blocks are talking to your I.
Curve them a wave and encircle them red
Joys comes dancing you goodbye
A smile so wide it will encircle your head


NaaN (Now, always and Never)

The safe days turned to open craters
The safe days are gone
The sound days became alarming sensors
The sound days are gone
The sure days burned to fuming cinders
The sure days are gone
And yet—the zen days laid their calming embers
The zen days still come


NaaN ...

The year is 2022, Theodore Jake Carlsen is riding a school bus up a steep hill while talking to a friend, Eugene, about poetry written during the Great War. *Screech*. Theodore’s life is about to be turned upside down in a matter of seconds by a treacherous disaster. *Vroom ...

Been circling the spread for far too long
When will we ride the wind again
Predicting the march and it’s always wrong
How will we free the flow again
Now unleashed to fill the void with song
Finally, we can begin again


NaaN (Now, always and Never)

We are wandering the bottom, or so it seems
We breath, we live, we gleam
Whatever we’ve seen. We’re waving our dry jokes goodbye
We are conjuring the bottom, or so it seems
We breath, we live, we dream
Wherever we lean. We’re waving our dry hopes ...