Jim Capozzi's "Lux Mundi" nestles comfortably in disrupted landscapes, where the bucolic, serene natural world endures the violence of a post-manufacture, post-industrial America, with its gutted scenery of shattered concrete and twisted rebar entrails. To fuse these sensually paradoxical and palpable landscapes demonstrates Capozzi's love for the haunted interiority of Michael Burkard and the broken, vivid and hallucinatory exteriors found in Denis Johnson's poems. Such is evident in the last sequence of "Lux Mundi," which begins:
In recent discussions of contemporary American poetry there seems to be an escalating concern over the state of the art and the apparently exhausted possibilities for that art, both in terms of aesthetic resource and cultural value.i These discussions share an awareness of poetry’s “intensified irrelevance”ii and a concern for what poets can (or can’t) do with this critical sense of impasse. One response to this exhaustion involves a revitalization of traditional expressivist aesthetics, but this response is one which has fully digested the rhetoric of postmodernism and, more specifically, Language poetry.