Solemnly luminous, digital sticks on a "dial" (I don't know what else to call a clock's face) keep pipping the millisecondsÖ serenelyÖ no, it's too quick for serenity, too assured for doubt. Is resolution any part of Time's onslaught? Precise as the quills on a hawk or a lark: millisec, millisec, millisec. --Too trim for a lugubrious drumbeat, the boom of doom or closed coffin tapping: trapped! The numbers change, adding up exhaustions, half-fulfilled love-affairs, the spark and shock of conflict. In there, quartz heart tribulates, never a blur of murders or smear of defeats, always a consequent, nice accounting: millisec, millisec, millisec.