"A"

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 sons face this much for honor from A-11 At long last, here is the whole of Louis Zukofskys epic masterpiece A back in print with misprints corrected and a new, fresh introduction by the noted scholar Barry Ahearn. No other poem in the English language is filled with as much daily love, light, intellect, and music. As William Carlos Williams once wrote of Zukofskys poetry, I hear a new music of verse stretching out into the future.