Time moves in the street like a lumbering garbage truck
mushing seconds into balls of minutes days
Rolls them with it's back legs up onto the sidewalk of eternity to wait
            While traffic     the lives of all the world     roll by     Time
is a shit cricket     a dung beetle     Pushing us past     the intersections
            the run down moments we've stacked like buildings to crumble into oblivion
      within our failing memories     Our lives are laid down like tar     stuck
on the clumped bits we'd like to keep      hoping if anyone were to look
some of it would seem like a path     leading somewhere

Summer 2005 Issue

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Editor's Note


SNR's Writers


CL Bledsoe is an editor for Ghoti Magazine. www.ghotimag.com He has work most recently in Natural Bridge, Diner, The King's English, Adagio Verse Quarterly, Big Toe Review, and Hobart Pulp. He currently attends the MFA program at Hollins University with his fiancee.

Copyright 2005, CL Bledsoe. This work is protected under the U.S. copyright laws. It may not be reproduced, reprinted, reused, or altered without the expressed written permission of the author.