Bees, and After (Volume 119) (Yale Series of Younger Poets)

Is "jargon poetry" a thing? If not, "Bees, and After" might be the first entry of a new genre that could easily be called that, or even "science-core".

It’s not the easiest read, but certainly a unique one.

This collection occupies a curious space where science meets art. John Liles experiments with form, often presenting poems in creative typographic layouts that visually echo the complexity of the subject matter.

Liles explores scientific phenomena through fragmented, lyrical, and frequently enigmatic verse. At times, reading it feels like browsing through a series of poeticized science lecture notes. While the poems rarely rhyme, there’s a rhythmic quality to the language that carries the reader through, as long as they don't get bogged down by trying to decipher the abundant technical terminology.

Luckily, Liles had the foresight to helpfully include footnotes for many of these terms. But, eventually, I stopped trying to analyze every scientific detail and instead read continuously, letting the rhythm and imagery wash over me.

Some topics hit close to home, like the heart beginning and ceasing to beat, or the fact that it’s the first organ to form and function. Others are wonderfully obscure, like a meditation on the most abundant mineral in the earth’s mantle.

Ultimately, some of these poems work beautifully and others less so. "Bees, and After" is not a book to breeze through, but for those willing to engage with it fully, it offers a thoughtful experience.