Midday at the Super-Kamiokande
Midday at the Super-Kamiokande is part existentialist cry, part close encounters of the other kind. Think Kierkegaard in a spacesuit, Kubrik in a Left Bank café. Like the neutrino observatory of its title, Midday at the Super-Kamiokande seeks "glimpses of the obscure" to carve out meaning, alternately a resistance to rationalism and its champion. It aims to tear through abstraction with the concrete, either catastrophic - road accidents, nuclear explosions, floods, extinction, eviction, suicide - or quotidian, finding threads of love, empathy, and belief within the fray. These poems delight in aphorism, paradox, puns, and wit, each stanza a closure that moves tangentially to the next, each poem more bricolage than narrative, more shuffle than playlist. These are poems with no middle. These are poems of beginnings, and of ends.
There's a brand-new law of thermodynamics waiting to be discovered in the poems of Matthew Tierney, which zip and whiz about the page with beguiling abandon. Catalyzed by the paradoxes and predicaments of the contemporary, Midday at the Super-Kamiokande forms an extended dispatch from a poet of astonishing observational powers. This book casts an eerie light from beneath its front door that will instantly pull you closer. ' - Dobby Gibson, author of It Becomes You