In the network, in the ruin,
flashing classics gravitate,
snared, encumbered voicelessly.
Teak enticements seek, leaping
fan-shaped arras corners
snore among in backward dispatch.
Panels glow, grown, territorialize
fetishistically in nacreous
instantaneity spookily shod.
Jackson Mac Low,1983
Read a Critique of Jackson Mac Low from Poem Hunter.