Journey to some stale beer container

the five hundred year flood
moved to north beach for protection purposes
since the more to the point room
related directly to
moving thru space
that is what something
sometimes could follow

a chant, an incantation, a mantra to
the onslaught of time machines
even as the glare turns to crimson
between the smeared ink and the accustomed syntax
t h e b u s j e r k s b l a c k s m o k e
was put in
that now lies in
a pile of spittle.