by Steve Chrisomalis

In sixty-six AD
(Actually, it was August ninth, but who's counting?)
A clock struck nil
And upon its chiming, struck us dumb.
I don't think anybody was around
Who saw its import.

Two thousand circumvolutions
(Actually, 1900 and thirty-four, but who's counting?)
Of a world circling about a sun
A cosmic winding of that said clock
Marks an important instant, for now
But what is missing?

A world awaits in anticipation
(Actually, mostly just Anglophonic parts, but who's counting?)
A bug? Y2K? Why not, I say?
Significant? I should say so!
Janus turns about, just to look for
A missing symbol!

January first, two thousand
(Actually, at midnight, in Kiribati, but who's counting?)
Anno Domini - and what an anno! Who can say -
Horribilis? Mirabilis?
What all prior to it had, it lacks -
I shouldn't say it!

And amidst all this a cynic
(Actually, just a dull and stubborn man, but who's counting?)
Said, I'm counting, digitally
And don't fancy your conclusions
So just you wait; I'll still show you in
2001.

by Steve Chrisomalis

Nothing can match
A saxophonic symphony
In rhythmic synchronicity
Swinging in fantastic harmony
Chromatic, with an omission or two
Improvisation - ad-hoc compositions
Of a Chicago or Kansas City jazzman (a trio?)
"Mood Indigo" at midnight, and "A-Train" at dawn
No sign of compact discs, not a hint of staff-notation
To imprison art in binding chains of its own making.

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