Alliterative, euphonious, needy, ""repaid// in spades by their noir icons,"" these poems are their own absolute super-thing, the visually rich, empurpled, nocturnal, sympathies that Gotham and only Gotham can solicit from the best Romantic traditions. They're also the latest and noirest and most speleological, most chiropteran, maybe even the most fun among the new wave of superhero-driven poems. Sometimes they ""strip the mask/ of ink""; sometimes they revel in that mask, without revealing all that's underneath. They're alert to the so-called Golden Age, to the heroes who camped out all over 60s TV, as well as to the modern Gotham cast; they're alert, too, to 21st century post-Romantic poetry and its yearnings and its techniques and its needs. ""They're all here... If you suit up, they will come."" Stephanie Burt, Harvard University