Time Time to time to time—from tock to tick, to wall to window topple, stop, then stop: a tower, wrist, a rest, a clerk, a click— around around the sound (a drip) (a drop)— and tripping, dripping, dropping I have been a clock within a clock within a clock that winds, unwinds—that rapes, that ropes me in escapement wheels that lock, unlock—then lock. But I can still draw pictures on my wall, or eat a bowl of cereal at noon; and there are days I’ve known that I recall the evening coming just a bit too soon. I haven’t seen the heights of the sublime, but glimpses come—from time to time to time. Bits When memory’s cleared I’d like to know where all those bits of data go. Do they have cozy homes with wives where they live out their off-line lives? And are they ready just in case somewhere out in cyberspace some dark, pernicious subroutine needs bits of data in between two saucy bytes in a nick of time to set in place some algorhyme? Will they be ready to obscene- ly splash across some yokel’s screen? When memory’s cleared dare I suppose where all that information goes? Paul Oratofsky was born in Brooklyn in 1943 and has been writing poems since 1954. He recently self-published his first book—a collection of related poetic works called Continuum. His website—oratofsky.com—shows a sampling of his artwork and history. He studied poetry for 8.5 years with the poet Jose Garcia Villa, starting in 1968.