Last night I was in The Strand and noticed on the new books table this fortuitous juxtaposition.
Most likely it will not be there a day later and within the week both books will no longer be "new."
Zukofsky was an early subject of this blog since he was born a few streets south of where I sit.
Zukofsky had a summer bungalow in a town across Long Island from Patchogue.
Zukofsky has gradually found readers.
GOING TO PATCHOGUE has found fewer readers. I did meet once a young man on Fifth Street who stopped me asking if I was who he thought I was and I asked him why he was stopping me: I had been looking for the blood near the police-station on Fifth Street, that you had written about.
Of course I am happy to see GOING TO PATCHOGUE again available but it is a source of an aching sadness as no one has been willing to publish what comes after: FORGET THE FUTURE, NOTHING DOING, JUST LIKE THAT (A Beginning and an End of the so-called 60s) or what I am working on now EXIT IS FINAL
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