1. |
The Archduke Descends
05:22
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2. |
This Calendar
04:24
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cobwebs of sweat
hot gossamer tethers
the net that suspends me
far from sweater weather
promised September
this note of promissory
the school year is yours
get me off this rotisserie
snow-buried February
this groundhog plays pugilist
gone sun-blind from staring
nails his shadow to the crucifix
and dear Rapunzel
belfry ice caved in your tower
I sold her out, dear valentine
for chocolates and flowers
tear down this calendar
tear down this calendar
check's in the mail
for one year's tender
shred the stamps
and shoot the sender
tear down this calendar
tear down this calendar
manipulate these pleasantries
to sell themselves
while fabricating holidays
for months one through twelve
you're stockpiling greeting cards
and construction cutouts
and posting and stapling
reindeer and snowflakes
and shamrocks and shillelaghs
fireworks and flag days
and bunnies and blue jays
and dozens of other simulacra(p)
notarized with cheery guarantees
this can never be for me
April cadence on the rooftops
rain Niagara in the gutter
sun violates the silver lining
to make a rainbow so cookie-cutter
delusions of sentiment
peripatetic romancer
except it won't make you younger
and it won't cure this cancer
call me a grouch
you're a see-through magician
can't manufacture happiness
by playing politician
I'll evaluate things
for the way that they're built
and you can't flag my convictions
not with fifty-two weeks' worth of guilt
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3. |
Your Penmanship
04:11
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don't pick up that pen just yet
this crossword may just prove
your intuition a little wet
and your ambition to play the author
filling in the missing fiction
only digesting clues
you find palatable
when playing storyteller
it's always easiest to think
that from mere chicken scratch
you can play the career ghost writer
and manipulating the etch-a-sketch
amortizing the penny-a-liner
and hammering out new identifiers
until you've explained that person
into your lexicon
with your razor serif sharpened calligraphy
trying to excavate
the facets of personality
peeling layers of fustian fruits away
obsessed with a stress-test
upon this palimpsest you guess
to best inspect this text
you find so alien, sesquipedalian
but I won't throw the spelling bee
to capitalize on your favor
this losing race
you'll have to play your lower-case
and sympathize, orthographize
in your articles the half-truth lies
now I know why I block-print
and you write in cursive
you think I'm out to play jawbreaker
a photo spliced within vocabulary
the copy editor for "hostile takeover"
in your devil's dictionary
if you allow me to pontificate
I can not countenance your face
super-scribed on that of Ambrose Bierce
for a rapier wit should stem
from wit, not fears
this belief burns in me something fierce
this ode akin
to something much more Dillinger
an icy finger on an inkslinger
I catch freezer-burned epithets
like an epitaph
this encyclopedia sold behind my back
so while squeezing the letters in
across and down in constant conflict
please remember this alphabet
won't always bend to your writer's instinct
no matter how many pencils you break
or erasers you stubble
know that you're free to fix
number two graphite mistakes
after all it's only a puzzle
but that pen might get you in trouble
before you color in those bubbles
if I'm free to give advice
this one last time
please take me at face value
please take me at face value
and don't pick up that pen
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4. |
Convolutions
04:50
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ants in the pants
they circus-dance circuits
inside my body and head now
weltering helter-skelter, catalyst
my fuse shorts and lights
I twitch and flip this switch
mind set to swivel, rivulate a little
as swanky thoughts meander and twist
in my helical wake, I create a pile
of books and clothes and notes
oh, how the room chokes
on this sweet centrifugal chaos
roll out the curlpaper
I prefer the cochlear sound
of things unravelling, I'll give it to you
try as I might to alphabetize this soup
the vowels now inside-out
I turn the consonants to dissonance
my bed a sheet-less mess
my house a treasure chest
that best represents
an endless index of my effects
tortuousness you may find torturous
but before I afford this rigor mortis
I'll dis-conform this
ever so convoluted
Mom says clean your room
you will be consumed
life is not a typhoon
but some secrets best
not be exhumed
best lay entombed
entropy occurs naturally
to defy disorder is to defy honesty
and sometimes a comes after b
and four before three
it's the layout of the labyrinth
that blueprints individuality
and I won't give you
a map to this mystery
and you can call this a bluff
but if you're looking for hints
I won't be dropping enough
to blow my cover
since I'm at home in this cyclone
deranged to you
and arranged to me in place
you can't bubble-sort a poker face
roll out the curlpaper
I prefer the cochlear sound
of things unravelling, I'll give it to you
try as I might to alphabetize this soup
the vowels now inside-out
I turn the consonants to dissonance
my bed a sheet-less mess
my house a treasure chest
that best represents
an endless index of my effects
tortuousness you may find torturous
but before I afford this rigor mortis
I'll dis-conform this
ever so convoluted
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5. |
Zeno's Paradox
04:13
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I proffered my first steps toward you
and in that advance
moved twice as near
but in calculating a foothold
thought that I'd be there
and you'd be here
but the second stretch
was not such a stretch
and there still lay one quarter
between us seamed from the half
I'm trying to reach you
but I'm thrown off by the math
should throw physics to the dogs
and just jump, not crawl or creep
but if I run half of the distance
there'll be the other half to leap
and of that half there'll be one half
with two halves of its own
the two of us have negative powers
that avail us to stay alone
I pictured a balladrome, not a ballet
in which I've proved I can not breach
the inch left to traverse without
crossing halves and fourths
and eighths and sixteenths
and on this backwards escalator
I'm slipping in cut time
you really can't get there from here
without eternally
stopping on a dime
don't want your infinity
to suffer my concerns
it's just that my feet are getting smaller
by half-sizes I can't discern
circumscribing concentric circles
a tetherball chasing a polar kiss
the two of us have negative powers
that invisibly part our lips
part our lips, half by half
lip over lip, half by half by half
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6. |
The Glass Engine Room
03:53
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7. |
Scientific American
04:19
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your reflection is this equation
but in the other direction
the equals sign a twist
dance and kiss in parentheses
brace the embrace of this
complement the geometry
the jigsaw cut me to anomaly
the pieces finally fit
osculate and oscillate
spoon on the inverse bit
puzzle math
play it intricate
take the shortest path
if the algorithm fits
this amorous synthesis
the sweet symmetry of this
truncate and shape
play it isosceles
splice side number three
and scissor-angle silently
convoluted infinity
we sit at zero focused tightly
leave a trace
this acid-base explosion
precipitated your name on my face
in covalent bonds
electrons holding hands in place
centrifuge rotates
we're pressed tautly
against the plates
then left to iterate
first you smile then we disintegrate
water and heat
bring this beaker to a boil
add electricity
knock the shocks off this Tesla coil
this chemistry is so advanced
complex but simply balanced
make a study of thee
coin and term -ologies
you've got a master's in me
it's time to get this PhD
all gone to expertise
this heart is an essay, a treatise
convoluted infinity
we sit at zero focused tightly
your didactic fractal
polydactyl fingers
treading the instruments of science
stepping on toes
and shoulders of giants
we apply to play the students
mutant caffeine plays pollutant
the unspoken promise
to hunt for truth
and knowledge with jurisprudence
I just want to watch
the sun come up on you
puzzle math
play it intricate
take the shortest path
if the algorithm fits
truncate and shape
play it isosceles
splice side number three
and scissor-angle silently
you and me swing
from this binary tree
wishing for sweet symmetry
for you and me
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8. |
Synapse and Sound
03:44
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measure for measure
this music permeates
through stale vacuum-sour air
a path of entropy and dissonance
dispersed to dissidents
who've long since spat on radios
and yearn to shatter rigor mortis
paralysis toward conformist sounds
abound, a refusal to salute
the records hung on stars
verdigris grown on platinum
a patina of rust on gold
a half a million records sold
instead for the price
of your cassingle
we go to basement shows
the signature
of independent music
played by sweaty live human beings
expanding from sardine packaging
and handling
straight from the van
and even odometer-worn
interstate-borne
their emotions focus-sharpened
on and on
cracked floors covered in wires
a desire to exert the self
a product you can't buy
shrink-wrapped and sent from high
twelve for a penny
with nothing more
manufactured and delivered
to your door
this is something else
you must be present for this
songs transduced through scarfskin
awakening an impulse
refreshed on crisp amp-driven waves
that settle sweet and strident
convolutions of verse-chord structure
twisted in the musculature
and resonating at angles
vibrating cuboid and trapezium bones
a harmony of tuning forks
pinging, singing between nerves
pinball-vesseled
to the brain and served
a cocktail of energy
treble-clef swizzled
first ossified in the body
now a cerebellum drunk
your mind
and body synchronize
each synapse awash in sound
chords catabolized to notes
frequencies flooding
the saturnine apartments
the lead out
exuviae and an exit sign
and with pulsing palsy
the body stretches, and flails
sweaty textures
rivers over pellicular patterns
paroxysms towards dots in space
lines connected by flesh
driven by song
a half an hour of catharsis
art exploding from the heart
and intellect empowering
the aesthetic journey
and we dance
and we dance
and we dance
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9. |
Ars Oklahoma
02:06
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the bulimic a.m.
gorges half vomit-sick
on the pinprick-thin balm
that lacquers my confidence
Oklahoma turnpike
moribund night
the town of Lone Chimney
the only guiding light
located at the absolute
threshold of sight
I'm low on dashboard change
this tour is taking its toll
on Arkansas roads
the Waffle House beckons
put grease in your throat
there's no shame in seconds
onboard computer
tell me something new
it says "sorry, Andy
that option's not open to you
I'm programmed to navigate
can't be your friend too"
my imagination runs away
I harmonize with stale cassettes
with four dollars change
I got at the show
a wishbone that breaks
when I wish not to break
down on the side
of the Kansas state roads alone
and I drive through the night
and I drive through the night
hit Missouri at dawn
the headlights go off
and the sprinklers come on
I'm just glad it's bedtime
curtains are shirts
and the coat is a sheet
and I'll thumb through the atlas
until I fall asleep
counting off states
like they're disfigured sheep
and rest until the rest area folks
ask me to leave
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10. |
Time Signatures
04:56
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hey rent-to-own camcorder
you stayed the same
while documenting me getting older
and some of the best parts
lie on the editing room floor
hey precious pose and picture
remember the self-induced
embarrassment and discomfiture
where are the negatives of those
and if I ever validated my life
via time-lapse photography
when the light was right
I reject it
and refuse to perfect it
and if I've learned one thing
from my mistakes
it was how to recreate them
when much more was at stake
at future dates
thankfully, there's some things
you can't erase
my life is not
a connect-the-dots
the only memories
I haven't yet forgot
there is no joy
in saving face
when the cost is having
the ugly half erased
hey character sketch in motion
your lackluster shine
is contrived without emotion
blood is thicker than ink
and to the dear departed
I hope you left
behind your memoirs
to your broken-hearted families
the unabridged diaries
of your dynasties
and dear ego
you yourself put on the ritz
you extrapolate my features
from yearbook portraits
but if you squint
I guarantee you'll spy
the gossamer fault lines
tectonic in my eyes
the best of intentions
the worst of fates
a few missteps
epoxy to make
times and names
to give the slip
and little pieces
you try to forget
but I for one acknowledge
every day and night
I have not lived a staccato life
staccato life
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11. |
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12. |
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13. |
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southern exposures
a grey negative of neon spires
over boarded-up arcades
quarters for erotic high scores
twenty-four hour electricity
pumping cheaper porn through wires
lighting misspelled marquees
selling slightly less bored
at the border Pedro stands guard
over his flea market concrete
and spilled bottles of flat Champale
on the cocaine mirror tables
executive room at blue collar cost
but don't bother with the receipt
pinching pennies leaves no impression
on those in this Sisyphean fable
interstates wallpapered
in red and yellow bubble fonts
beckoning with Indian river fruits
and brick firecrackers
one hundred billboards tower
over flags and parking lots
proscenium to dollar commerce
starring uninspired actors
credit cards as useless
as stone wheels at the greasy spoon
you wash your browned fives
and tens in the buttered grits
but keep some wallet green and warm
for the souvenir heirlooms.
“wish you were here” like the punchline
stale postcard, stale wit
the swamp foxes trundle
under shoddy shade from withered trees
the forest's permissive canopy
letting sunburn through to flattened land
palmetto climate like a palm held closed
to gentle blowing breeze
strips of land and water mingle
recipe for humid hand
the tourists leaving dusty vectors
bombing down the gravel paths
designer towels, bikini fashions
like scarlet letters, a clear exhibit
learning rudimentary civil war histories
like arcane math
adventure golf a clear reminder
of where they live, not where they visit
southern exposures
a grey negative of neon spires
over boarded-up arcades
quarters for erotic high scores
twenty-four hour electricity
pumping cheaper porn through wires
lighting misspelled marquees
selling slightly less bored
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14. |
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all of those things
centrifuging in my head
a tight little sphere of doubt
but you at the center
like some sweet magnet
agent of chaos
architect of happy lament
turn this question inside out
your muted beauty
in the back of brain
the tender dolor
burning xylopyrographs
of your eyes on mine
incandescent retinavore
the savory trademark of your heart
confectioned under lash and lid
annealing needle skip and skid
this labyrinthine kiss, dendrite twists
and sparks the battery
mind's eye with hanging portrait
green and blue sugars
written to memory
the perpetual bus error
refreshing your sweet visage
on a continuous Mobius strip
train of thought absconding
with the rational thinking
giving subway thieves the slip
somewhere up ahead
nothing left but you, me
and a "this space for rent" sign
somewhere up ahead
the dull ignition
of the land mind
singing sad songs of Maryland
singing sweet songs of Massachusetts
notes dripping seraphim
your liquids blowing fuses
this letter in your grip
hand in luck
forgive me endless metaphors
a filibuster clusterfuck
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15. |
Pi [bonus track]
03:21
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16. |
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17. |
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I walk between shelves of files
push in the wedged folders
that stick out
straightening my tie
six more weeks
until school starts again
I mentally place another x
on the calendar
behind me
the fax machine
belches release forms
signed electronically
they scroll out
and waft to the carpet
without a sound
a discordant string
of notes and noise rings
alerting me that
the machine is jamming
punctuating the hum
of the air conditioner
droning on and on
leaning over the fax
unhinging rollers and uncrinkling paper
I lean my head out the window and smell
hot asphalt and cool grass clippings
summer's dying outside
lean back in surrounded by odors
of rubbing alcohol
and air conditioner coolants
that merge with the fusty musk
of mothballed once-a-month clothes
of elderly patients waiting to make
a good impression on the doctor
age does not matter to allergies
they can be treated, not cured
behind me, the fax machine
abruptly beeps
and disgorges five sheets
of medical formalities
falling quiet, it segues
a muffled screech from room three
five year old thinking that she's
enduring the finality
but only the fifth
of the thirty-four pinpricks
of a scratch test making her skin sick
but we've got to know
if she's allergic to oranges
shot six delivers the verdict on cashews
the girl lets loose with another wail
softened by the thick door
her mother sits outside the door
a quiet curse as she fumbles
through her purse
she's probably forgotten
the insurance card
I approach her, speak to her
of deferred payment plans
she waves me away
goes inside the room
to stop the costly exam
this time her daughter's scream
escapes unhampered
takes her by the arm
and mother and daughter scamper
under the look
of embarrassed eyes
copy repairman looks up
shakes his head
and returns to his weekly surgery
his hands tattooed with dried toner
speaks of his thirty years in the business
of daft secretaries
who somehow never remember
to aerate damp paper
a nurse walks by
and gives me an emphatic smile
then runs off
speaking of shot schedules
copy man mumbles to me
from the optic wiring
I nod pretending to agree
this man is strong
and I fear insulting him
like I've insulted everyone else
by opening my mouth
try to keep my eyes shut
so my dead eyes
do not betray my disgust
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18. |
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yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
poured in the sea for the purpose of
shipping a letter inside cork-sealed
mailed by shark or electric eel
you have buried my heart at sea
standing weak on swash-buckled knees
I've traced dashed lines on maps
where you've travelled far
withhold your x's and o's
and give me a hearty arr!
I will batten down the hatches
cannons I'll provide the matches
trim this ship on even keel
then pirate this, a kiss to steal
I would swim five hundred nautical miles
to freeboot one of
your patch-eyed gold-tooth smiles
study quarter-mastery
or apprentice the boatswain
if this boat's swayin' I won't complain
I'd eat barnacles, drink seawater brine
live on tar and salt and strike-me-blind
smoke your herring
and juice your limes
just to navigate
across your Plimsoll line
be my private privateer
I'm shanghai'd in your clutches here
you make me walk the plank
a lover's leap, I won't have sank
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19. |
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Andrew Wagner Boston, Massachusetts
Broken strings and blistered fingers.
D'Addario .014s, tuned in open A7.
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