If a poem addressed “Dear Amercian Children” was signed, “Your first god,” just who do you imagine that god might be?

Hammer chucking monkeys, a lanky binary string bean, a suspect princess–the denizens of this half-world where the narrator moans, “I dare eat a peach, I dare eat a peach, I dare eat a peach.” If someone made a cartoon version of a tragic-hilarious David Foster Wallace novel, its landscape might resemble the world painted by Brinson and Shipman in these obsessive, despairing, irresitibly funny Super Poems that capture like a poetic hologram projected onto the pages of a chapbook, the culture of our times. “All you wanted to do was watch cartoons, play your Nintendo,/ eat cheese and crackers, not memorize the bad taste/ of the natural world, not imagine your/ drunk dad, or his big leather belt tough as a turtle shell”.