The long poem at the center of Paper Head Last Lyrics offers a vision of the world in all its layers, at once beautiful and terrifying. This is a work of eye, ear, head and heart that manages to keep them all in play, and all always at risk:

   A mirror flying across the sky
     shattered his point-of-sale
Make a new life

Andrew Levy brings the news!
-- Ron Silliman

Mostly music, the lines in these poems are like monostitches--one-liners stitched on space--but audible as bird calls interrupted only by air. This is a belief system: a simultaneity of listening and articulating.
-- Fanny Howe

Writing under any and all influences with a Thoreau-going extravagance, this Indiana-fed New Yorker staggers out from under the patrolling beam into diagramless streets and skies, spinning out his reeling little dreidel ("she made it out of play") into coastal and midland, screened and bugged realities, always in person, embodying at times intolerably sad but never utterly dispiriting decompositions (from "One might paint the entire world" to "One might point to and tire of"). I second these e-motions.
-- John Shoptaw

Andrew Levy, in Paper Head Last Lyrics refreshingly overlaps and engages the paired territories of language and thought, of speech and writing, of the social sphere and the textual sphere in a book that doesn't collapse politics and "actually existing" social relations into a gooey borderless mess, but rather moves through them with equal amounts of anger, surveillance, emotive twinges, comedic timing, and uncanny combinations.
-- Jeff Derksen