The Last Predicta is Chad Davidson's searing collection of poetry dedicated to endings of all varieties. From odes to the corporate cornucopia of Target and the aggressive cheer of a Carnival cruise, to emotive examinations of Caravaggio's The Calling of St. Matthew or flies circling a putrescent bowl of forgotten fruit, Davidson weaves a lyrical web of apocalyptic scenarios and snapshots of pop culture. Throughout the volume appear cataclysms large and small, whether the finality of a minute passed or the deaths of a thousand swans at Seneca Lake in 1912. Images of King Kong, Starburst candies, and the Brady Bunch swim with mythological figures, Roman heroes, and dead animals as Davidson deftly explores the relationship between the mundane and the profound. At the center of the collection sits the Predicta television itself, "the lives blooming there in Technicolor," at once futuristic and nostalgic in its space age prophecy.

Moving in their very simplicity, these poems resonate with discoveries that belie their seemingly ordinary wellsprings. Chad Davidson's stunning collection repeatedly explores the moment of revelation and all its accompanying aftermaths. The Last Predicta leads readers to ponder all manner of predictions, endings, and everything that follows.

“The Last Predicta is like a broadcast from The End of something: a culture, a time, a language, a world. This one. If the picture seems to roll, it’s our eyes, our brains, straining to keep up with Chad Davidson’s madcap velocity, the mordant blur all the world is washed in. ‘This is weird,’ one poem suggests, and any apocalypse would be, but in Chad Davidson readers could hope for no better guide.”—Paul M. Guest, author of My Index of Slightly Horrifying Knowledge

"In The Last Predicta, Chad Davidson imagines a shopping list for the Apocalypse—only to reveal that our cupboards are already fully stocked: “low-sodium transubstantiation,” “the Milano-style whatnot,” a “Golden-Clad Something Nice,” and the strangely Greek “augur of instant replay.” The shoppers cum lovers in these poems—dressed in “desire’s burrs and foxtails”—visit Target, Tokyo, Rome, Gold’s Gym, and the late night nature shows on television, where they find, ultimately, “the silent spreading/ ocean’s black pajamas, saying, Nighty-night, nighty-night.”—Angie Estes, author of Chez Nous