JEWELLERY DOESN'T STEAL Comments

Because if I went west of where I don't live
but reside to the seaside of the city
that I neither scorn nor cherish,
if I marched on through the shame
along the harbour's gullet, the pied
piper, the final foliage looking fine
in death throes on the blank platter
that the jumbos

rob along the plumes of the forge, and if I came
closer, shoved myself
onto, dare I say it, a snake
through the dzjungle, to the game park
for the scrap that fostered hope
even though I spat my poison quickly
into the yards of sick rich folk, after which
I approached the target

in sight, call it the dunes, claptrap, baptize
it as the dried-out gardens of the rotten
sea, then I felt the love
stun them to save me
from their demise by helping them to treat
me thoroughly with lye, and I want both the metals
from the throat and the okays from the tales

of intrigue to be extracted,
till I no longer smelled the armpits
of the coyotes behind me conspire,
but shone with the blue that wished to suckle me
when I finally popped up from the syrup:
I don't want to hang about where you

dry out, I sang, that is the only thing
I am still going for, in my hymn
through the halls of mothers' arms
around the mud, the pilot boat's whistle
by the pier, the death throe robot, sabre dream, apart
from the bulb in bloom, the rocking of the socket
for the grazes of the glitter

Had I actually wanted the light I would have
grabbed it, shot my blood
with it, and would have kept
it coming, at the to-ing and fro-ing
of the boats full of
the stuff, but now I lay
in the bijouterie of the spray
del sol and in for a dope of a time

Son of the summer, under the skirts
around the riddle of the sun I pulled
towards me, the buttocks taken
into my mouth to gobble them up
by taking from the pearl
the creams. For, if I were to look back now
along the coast, I would find the spew
in which I saw them suffocate
...
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