Nothing in "Thesis 57" settles into a plain statement, and that seems to be the point. The poem works by collision: "topic o speech" looks like a slip of the keyboard, a cormorant (a bird that dives and swallows) appears from nowhere, and the whole thing is labeled "under construction." Language here feels unfinished, still being built or broken as we read.
The phrases that follow play with grammar and money. "No such pronoun / as economic suction" sounds like a rule, but it's nonsense dressed as logic. "Surplus books" and "the gulp" suggest too much being taken in, as the cormorant gulps its catch. The last line, "content defying / desire," hints that meaning resists what we want from it. The speaker's feelings are hard to pin down, but the tone seems playful and wry, maybe a little skeptical. The mood is puzzling and slippery. Instead of explaining itself, the poem invites you to enjoy the sounds and odd links, and to notice how much you try to make sense of them.