Pulling to the strait

Pulling to the strait
Finding St. Chrispoth
you’ve freeloading aboard again
steamrollers and stowed
in amongst the shipping crates

under rocks you’ve tugged
at barnacles undersea
your reat to zinc electrolysis
of a magnitude
almost impossible to resist

Before when the desert was flooded
under rings like steppes of ebbing tides
cataclysmic events
indeed water scrapes over the land

the emptiness
dry left behind
is what i suppose is below
look thru the portholes to the absence
of thought dimension
and turmoil