BROKEN ZINE: The tape starts in the middle of a sentence.

L. CRANE: Most lives do.

BZ: You disappeared from publishing for nearly twelve years.

LC: I stopped mailing things to strangers and asking permission to exist in stapled form. It was restful.

BZ: What did you do instead?

LC: Delivered appliances. Fixed screen doors. Read books after I had forgotten the author photograph. Wrote sentences on receipts and lost most of them.

BZ: Do you regret losing the work?

LC: I regret keeping some of it.

BZ: What brought you back?

LC: Somebody found a poem of mine in a box of records at a yard sale and mailed it to me. Twenty-three years after I wrote it. I didn’t recognize the handwriting at first.

BZ: Was it good?

LC: No. But it was alive.

BZ: Is that different?

LC: Completely.

Fictional launch sample created for Broken Zine.

Writes essays and dispatches about public space, work, subcultures, and the quiet education of being overlooked.

Fictional launch contributor created to populate the prototype issue.

I regret keeping some of it.