This first American collection of British John Holloway's work might strike the reader on first glance as versification of a 19th century mentality, beating a hasty tin drum retreat into an older, merrier pastoral England. But beyond the opening section of nostalgic nature poetry, ""Doomed in a world of/ Neon, nylon,"" Holloway takes a stand. Miming the consumed and the consumer in the technology he deplores, Holloway writes: ""Lance in rest we save the pound/ Just with charging, tough and slick;/ Simulating Senor Quixote;/In reserve is Panza's trick-/Our arse-battlecry's More More."" In ""Said by a Human Being,"" he scorns the mutant culture born from the ""real marriage"" of ""Science and the archaic way of life."" The last part delivers an acerbic complaint to ""London, Greater London,"" satirizing the narrative voice that catalogues its every gripe against the megalopolis, only to enter the commuter ""rush-hour. . . stuck on the by-pass."" Inventive, slyly humorous, John Holloway appears to be the kind of technical poet with something for everybody. A substantial albeit conservative respite from ""the poison fanciers.