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By Louis Zukofsky

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The enormous life-poem via essentially the most vital American poets of the 20th century. River that needs to flip complete after I cease demise tune, my music, elevate grief to song gentle as my loves' inspiration, the few in poor health So unwell of wrangling: therefore weeping, Sounds of sunshine, remain in her protecting And my son's face - this a lot for honor - from " 'A'-11" this is the entire of Louis Zukofsky's epic masterpiece "A". No different poem within the English language is full of as a lot day-by-day love, mild, mind, and song. As William Carlos Williams as soon as wrote of Zukofsky's poetry, "I listen a brand new song of verse stretching out into the future."

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Another kind of particular. We are after all realists capable of distinctions. "Many people are too busy to be unemployed," says Henry. ) "If communism ever gets into a country And raises Ned with it, It's because that country needs it. Only about one family In ten has a bathtub. They should be made cheaper, So that everybody could have them. ) As for labor, "There are more people Who won't try to do anything," Says Henry, "Than there are who don't know what to do, I am in the business of making automobiles 25 [A-6] Because I believe I can do more good that way Than any other.

Not royalty, but faces hollowed as royalty , A passion growing urban a s i n Greece , A vague dream, - standing each other to drinks, Aging eyes, impish, overhanging Carafes on bars Under leaves serrated in falls, And at theatricals. The hands wandering over each other, A hole and entered. And above terraces of the city, a hill, Night, Aldebaran, Young, no differences in ages, a hole. ' A white rabbit Plumped on his b elly, Reassured. Thru trees, White teeth perhaps Laughed . . The time was: He had worked enough in his pa's wheatfields, And gone to the State University, And now participated with the angels in Paris.

Not in the say but in the sound's - hey-hey The way to-day, Die, die, die, die , tap, slow, Die, wake up, up ! u p ! 0 Saviour, to-day ! Choose Jews' shoes or whose: anyway Choose ! Go! But they had no eyes, and their legs were wood ! But their stomachs were logs with print on them! Blood red, red lamps hung from necks or where could Be necks, two legs stood A, four together M They had no manes so there were no airs, but Butt . . b utt . . from me to pit no singing gut ! Says you! Then I , Singing, It is not the sea But what floats over: hang from necks or where could Be necks, blood red, red lamps (Night), Launder me, Mary !

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