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 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 Zukofsky's poetry, "I hear a new music of verse stretching out into the future."

Louis Zukofsky spent forty-six years writing his masterwork "A," and died before he could see the completed version published. Poet, translator, fiction writer, essayist, anthologist, critic, teacher, WPA worker, and binding force of the Objectivist poets, Zukofsky was born in New York City and lived in or near the city his whole life.