Today I mourn the corpse of my corpus:
The work of a lifetime, lost to a glitch.
A power-fail head-crash erased the enormous
collection of all I have done. “Life’s a bitch,

and then you die,” so goes the meme.
But I had intended my work to survive
long after I’m dead, so that it might seem
that some of my essense might still be alive.

Goodbye 787 Quips,
hundreds of papers and invited cants,
22 Stories with rejection slips,
56 poems, 31 Rants. . .

OMG, is that the summation
of all I’ve accomplished in 78 years?
What are my choices in this situation:
Start over now, or just drown in my tears?

30 November 2023

(No, it hasn’t really happened… yet!)