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Recorded Reading (1:18): https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/5iuy8mnortqlr9yvnxx0j/After-Too-Much-Indexing.mp3?rlkey=7a3zc4dg9zpswsipu5okbw5cs&dl=0

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After Too Much Indexing

Indexing is the devil’s very work
Of all I do, the one most wish to shirk
In corners of my conscience doth it lurk
With a most snide and most complacent smirk

Have I just now a lovely sonnet writ?
I may take no satisfaction from it
Not even as much as a moment’s bit
Before my indexing gets in a snit

Endlessly complaining of neglect
Pointing out each tiny self-defect
I cannot seem my poor self to protect
From its demands, which I forthwith perfect

Each entry, be it so minute and minor
Most would be hard put even to define ‘er,
Such abject stress put upon its designer
Endlessly to re- and re-refine ‘er (!!)

I know that now you’ve read these lines you see
Yes, see, and pretty much effortlessly,
What a disaster, post-labor’ially,
(After too much indexing) these brains be!

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Homeless until removal of the stalker/targeter/vandal/arsonist following her allows her to approach any landlord ~ even for a private parking space ~ this poet presently lives under perpetual threat of towing with all possessions should her 23-year-old van stop running for any reason.

She is badly in need of a modest reserve with which to field any emergency which might occur.

Donors may visit http://www.UgiftABLE.com , using code #72D-31S. It does take several days for the poet to be notified of your patronage.

Thank you for supporting quality in the fine arts.

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