River that must turn full after I stop dying
Song, my song, raise grief to music
Light as my loves' thought, the few sick
So sick of wrangling: thus weeping,
Sounds of light, stay in her keeping
And my son's face - this much for honor
-- from " 'A'-11"
At long last, here is the whole of Louis Zukofsky's epic masterpiece "A" back in print with misprints corrected and a new, fresh introduction by the noted scholar Barry...