After winning the 2002 Tupelo Press Snowbound Chapbook award presented by judge Ray Gonzalez, a full-length version of David Hernandez's imaginative, heartfelt work became inevitable. Whether reinventing the cinematic sets of Laurel and Hardy or meditating on the glittering seams that hold us together from the inside, these are poems that know how to turn the world inside out and take us along for a closer look. The author's eyes rove the landscape of his experience and focus on the details of shadows, his words giving a fresh accent to the pathos and unavoidable humor of loss. A new voice that's loud, lucid, and impossible to ignore.
This is what "accessible" poetry can and should be: razor sharp, a window into understanding that doesn't sacrifice strangeness. Anxiety, especially as related to disease and accident, hovers at the edge of these poems (or maybe that's just where my head is these days): Unacknowledged cancer is a fish caught, injured and released. Humor, cruelty and love dance with pop culture and pharmaceuticals in Hernandez's tight lines. Although a few of the poems feel like "early work" (and I think they are), the book as a whole is carefully crafted and brimming with music.