COME FRIENDLY BOMB

is blob love something that never goes away?

Ted Berrigan Surveys Season Five of ‘Mad Men’ And It Is Good Part 4

05x11 The Other Woman

 

I’m a bankrupt machine shifting gears inside the scaffold.

A body says, it isn’t here, a body

exchanges one abstract for a more abstract.

No force on earth is weaker than the force that I extract,


which pushes a bill across a surface,

which rumples two points on a surface

into folds. To return to an earlier point

in time, no force on earth is weaker than.


A million specters shrugging, I can’t wait

to see it. There’s a silence at every election,

the feeble strength of one, a body

pushed into being-event through black-mail.


A machine can sexualize commerce, smelt capital into fear.

I have some bad news, gentlemen. There will be no bonus this year.


05x12 Commissions and Fees

 

I have some bad news, gentlemen. There will be no bonus this year,

no glasses anymore, a grey tusk

fixed to a sheet of glass.

I’m sorry to write you like this but


I have some bad news, gentlemen. It’s silence.

Without a rod or a crown, language grovels at our level.

This could be Ginsberg’s fault, shuffling around matter—

I’m sorry to write you like this but


I have some bad gentlemen waiting—rude gentlemen

in glass neckties. I want to kiss them. A body is obscene

and poorly-lit, a body is a stupid wax factory, or bankrupt.

I’m sorry to write you like this but


there’s a deficit to account for. There’s a catalogue entry for this.

You never do think the machine that you melt will be the machine that you miss.


5x13 The Phantom

 

You never do think the machine that you melt will become the machine that you miss.

When I was a mobster’s daughter, when I was a mark around a throat

I looked out for that which passed through and into as a code.

I lived twice. Well, five thousand times. Some strange heir beckoned me on



to a broadband channel called ‘fake history.’ My machine

fell into an empty seat at a tedious meal until love

squirreled its legs around my car and crushed it.

We’re gonna twisty twisty twist till we tear the mead hall Heorot down.


We’re gonna like a pain becoming in the night steal your vassals

twist your limbs until your car stalls or bursts into happy flame.

Take it from me. I don’t even remember who you are. I’m a limb

detached by a permanent wound. A grey cloud is haunting your worst vassal’s lovers


by flirting its smoke through wires. Vandal’s mother shears aesthetics from bone.

Dogs fuck in the waste of a split-level yacht. Waste-maker, are you alone?

  1. thetargetbird reblogged this from comefriendlybomb
  2. cultsore reblogged this from comefriendlybomb
  3. comefriendlybomb posted this