Here is the second of the poets from volume 21 of the Quarterly Review of Literature, the first in its poetry series, published in 1978. As far as I can tell, M. Slotznick had published one poem (in the Partisan Review) when he put together this collection, and I cannot find anything about him on the web to indicate that he published anything afterwards. Again, this is a poet whose work largely leaves me cold, but a few of his poems stay with me, such as this one:
Enterprise is a learned musician, enterprise
stoops, shaken, groping to repeat its chords.
When the blizzard lifts, the white metronome stops,
I’ll still see a bass-violinist and his instrument,
ungainly and rich. He bends over the thing
like a lover; he pries exquisite algebra
from his history; his wrist trembles
all out of proportion, and my heart sounds hollowly.
I do wish he had kept writing and publishing; I would like to see what he has done in the three decades since.