Book review: Designated Heartbeat.
Salt Publishing, 2006.
Designated Heartbeat collects a decade of Bruce Andrews’s shorter poems, which explode language and invite us to sift through the rubble, almost daring us to construct meaning.
Andrews loves wordplay and supplies lots of neologisms and neo-phrasisms. If, for example, you deminimaleyes the overword you’ll find phasized servo-machinists unchassising their surreptitular simulants. But such rope-a-dotage and contaminatal flagrance may cause rigor mantis if allowed to deliriumvirate circumnugatory loinwords. So besideswipe the anti-oxidintal desdemonad.
His poem “Definition” is a troubling and hysterically dysfunctional dictionary.
Andrews delights in fracturing folklorisms and twisting truisms, at times nearly measuring distance out in time spoons. After all, no disappointment without proportional representation, at least on this planet of the napes. I’m a testcase, you’re a testcase, thus the center cannot bleed for whom the plate rises. So let those without skin cast the first rip-up.
His poem “Danger risk hazard jeopardy peril” presents blocks of text made of apparently random sequences of words. But random they are not. The poem is “a translation and rearranging from Spanish of the piece PELIGRO which ‘translates’ by rearrangement of word by word materials, an earlier piece JEOPARDY into Spanish.”
To sum up, the more you know about pop music, in your own sweet way, the more you’ll want to do the mobile popcorn, at least until the end of the beguining. I have indeed listened to the mother inattention, honey honey, so I’ll lie if I want to.