Let's get one thing straight right now: I hate novels that call themselves on the cover, "A Novel of ______". A Novel of Queen Elizabeth. A Novel of Suspense. A Novel of San Luis Obispo. Please.

The poem keeps getting longer. Sense of vertigo now that I'm out of the fourteen-line box. Anxiety of the long poem finding its form.

Great stuff, early Zukofsky. He has the friendliest voice of any modernist I can think of.