In this selection of shorter lyric poems, celebrated Language poet Bruce Andrews offers his charismatic blend of satire, wit and jouissance, creating a dizzying picture of modern America. In these poems Andrews explores a more intimate and domestic register, further reminding us of the astonishing range of this contemporary master.

I Knew the Signs by Their TentsVerbal Sallies“Facts are Stupid things”Did you Really?Lives in Bed HallwaySomehow that’s Just the Way it is and I Just Don’t Really CareSecret Refracted Somewhere HereCountlessCountSpintoTime ExpansionBlackDevo HabitLasting Kiss RemovalCan it Start Fires?Please Please DidM 0 BDanger Risk Hazard Jeopardy PerilValentinesReverb SalliesDefinition

Andrews' Designated Heartbeat clips in and out of syntax, repetition or surprise. The aesthetic damage and recovery, then damage. It holds you, drops you, sometimes helps you recover. -- Allen Fisher "Lexicon seduces" we read in the marvelous poem "I knew the signs by their tents" that opens Designated Heartbeat. Bruce Andrews' lexicon does indeed "seduce" the reader, what with the "referent burnout" of such pieces as "Verbal Sallies," a bravura series of quasi-love poems, where we witness the poet, who is "Listening for portraiture," "sweep the jokes overword." But where else would one sweep jokes if not "overword"? Andrews' word invention has never been more dazzling than it is in these profoundly political riffs on the current cultural scene, on the ways we live now - if one can call it "living." Whether in verse or prose or in concrete visual forms, this is a poetry remarkably attuned to that "referent burnout" we all experience as we make our way through the "success sewage" that surrounds us. Along the way, Designated Heartbeat carries the notion of le mot juste - in all its beauty and rigor - to its illogical conclusion. -- Marjorie Perloff

In these poems Andrews explores a more intimate and domestic register, further reminding us of the astonishing range of this contemporary master. In this selection of shorter lyric poems, celebrated Language poet Bruce Andrews offers his charismatic blend of satire, wit and jouissance. A dizzying and exhilarating picture of modern America from one of the prime movers of L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E school of poetry.

Lives in Bed Hallway Outmoving the, outfrequenting the – Flippers now colloidal. Can’t float in the logic, exhausted escape habits, choked swimming as a phrase. Dapper delegates? Withheld worth’s cowardice, shiver by name. I can’t need form. Geometry farms. Inside is Close. Vectors from inside out delirium yesterday. Terse ask. Specia-lists disappear, techno-mono. Slang up, yeah? Quiet is a critique. Fond as blasts. Craze with nothing not knowing. The blasts are coming off dice on your head. A kind bends around leaving. Two two. Mobile flavor units easing into eternity. Canopy hegemony, pardon the creatures ending. Girls, is this lapidary? Triple vapid, the harmonic misfires are forming a Union. Goose the substance pronto. Charm all vertical. Loving this colorless, metallically dangerous breathe to mark statutory insti-gations. A flake in vacation. Synapse has its own luggage. Slapping pinks slatting hands. Kneels of boss tongue. Latex motion to be aloof. Custody got late-tags indelibly custarded. Hoops zined. A suspicious voluntary. Templated heart ovum. Sulk schottische. Self volunteers for paradigms. Infallible sobs. Silence jilted. Nothing gathers the walls around you. Silver is knickknacked to death. Strength of your shun. Edges this ragged. Geometry it’s gone. The blood’s favorite game show. Equofinality.