For a while now I’ve been considering the merit of bringing into one file all of my poems. The reason is unclear to me. I hope it’s not ego in overdrive because I’ve got the darned books right here in front of me. I could sleep with them if I wanted to.
Nor do I believe there’s a publisher out there with a hankering to bring out the unabridged Harrison works. I can’t decide what prompted the thought. Last night I didn’t sleep well, got up thinking about this, and just jumped in.
I thought of course that I could copy from each book file onto a new file and the whole process wouldn’t take that long. Very wrong. Files become lost in the shuffle over time and with change of programs and computers. I’ve spent this day so far typing poems from the books into the computer. Not fun and definitely not productive. It can also be painful reading old work. Lots of wincing going on here at the keyboard.
To give up or continue, that’s the question. So far I’m up to THE PURCHASE OF SMALL SECRETS, 1998. Before too long I’ll finally reach the more current files where I can indeed copy and paste to march right along. For now, it’s another 48 poems to type. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for this. Well okay, maybe just one more . . .