As Bob Dylan might have put it, crow is my cup of meat. Back on January 16, 2009 I put up a rambling post, toward the end of which I asked this question: “Whatever happened to Floyce Alexander, whose excellent poems I still read but whose voice—so intense and so distinctive—seems to have gone silent?” Well, as is often the case, it was I who had gone deaf; Floyce had been publishing (a bit sparingly, it’s true), but I had simply lost track of him. The good news is that now he has joined the poetic flotsam and jetsam (you and me, bucko) online. You can find him here, posting remarkable poems, bits of prose, reflections, dreams, enthusiasms and what-all. “I had no course but the hard way,” he writes in one of them, and don’t we know what he means? Well, I do. And I’m grateful to find him still alive and well and producing his quirky, beautiful, engagé (do they still say that?) forays into our personal and collective lives. You can even hear him doing it in his own voice here. What a gift!