“I think this is one of the poem’s great achievements–to write a description of a post-revolutionary moment that isn’t a utopia; to use techniques that orbit wider than realism, while looping through a descriptive realism nonetheless. This is beyond the resources of realist fiction when it tries to think about capitalism. The best dystopian science fiction, meanwhile, when it tries to extend capitalism into the future, tends to invite allegorical readings that, while pleasurable, usually lose sight of the thing Bernes has kept our gaze on all the while: the conditions of production under capital, the ones that make us merely 'programmable,' make us just sad apes.” —Chris Nealon, “The Price of Value” (forthcoming 2016) From As for the rest of us, we learn something important about ourselves watching from the loading dock as the mushroom cloud announces the end of another season— e.g., that each riot really is an assemblage of other riots washed up on the boulevards, from whose faded corpses one dresses and arms one’s comrades the total inadequacy of which as equipment for the task at hand traces out in negative the seat perilous of the party historical the poetry of the future whose sweet new sounds will fill with meaning slowly while the seas rise.