In TOY SOLDIERS, Michael Chang continues to brew up a new and distinctive poetry, steeped in New York School precedent and our everyday digital detritus. TOY SOLDIERS is what happens when play turns deadly serious, when the gameboard flips to reveal, of all things, real life. These are fierce poems of intense flavor, of extreme volume: "all the mothers singing / pickled by birds / shredded into wild ginger." There is no way off this ride, so best to grip hard at whatever you've got, or whoever is sitting near you. And yes, love shines here, or at least a glimmer of it. "how do u flirt w. someone who has everything " It starts, I think, with the sheer heat of the spoken word. Are these poems, "namedropping & scanning the room," hilarious, earnest, opaque, playful, sexy, sardonic, forthright, political, gossipy? Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. But above all, as one poem boasts, this is a "poetry . . . aimed at destroying ugly shit." Take cover: that aim is somehow at once wild and true.