We Make Zines

a place for zinesters - writers and readers

Poems, and sayings written in the last 10 days or so:


One spoon
one bowl
and still both
hands are full

I whisper my secret
to my statue
of Galatea

Weak tea,
thin soup,
and I am running
out of water.

Like a candle
never lit.

Sad western painting,
it took a while
before any portrait
was allowed to smile

In the sequel
there's turnabout,
and Frankenstein
reassembles the Dr.

Living on a
bridge to nowhere

He filled his house with water pitchers
in hutches in every wall.
Lighting struck and started a fire
that engulfed every floor.
But as the shelves began to collapse
the pitchers would tip their spouts.
And the water pouring forth
would put the fires out.

Round and round
go Saturn's rings.
It's a perpetual
motion machine.

Kafka came to me,
a ghost in a dream.
I told him how much
the world loved his work.
"Which ones do they like?"
"All of them" I replied.
He thought for a moment.
"GIve them this message,
"When THEY become ghosts,
I'll give them my thanks."


There are walls, even in space.

Rock doesn't rock any more.

If time is an arrow, who shot it?

Don't look at the snowflake on the top of the mountain. Look at the mountain!

Who decorated this place, the bomb squad?

Imagine a graph showing a bell curve of openness to new ideas.
Dallas would be 3 miles to the left of that chart.

Like looking for grey in grey!

Tom Hendricks
(editor of the 17 year old zine Musea)

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