by J J Cohen
That title sounds so Eileen Joy, doesn't it? It isn't, but is stolen from her verbal doppelganger Wallace Stevens.
An early plane tomorrow whisks me to Fort Lauderdale, where I rendezvous with my brother and we drive the rest of the way to Key West. You know how I am drawn to the Caribbean, and this is as close as you can get from the US.
So, no blogging from me in quite a while. I will be communing with the ghosts of Hemingway, Stevens, Frost, Bishop, Margarita, Tequila...