First draft of poem from workshop at Contact

Brain gone tidal.

Ideas rising,
salty memories,
an inspired foaming at the tip.
A brain wave.

Thoughts come crashing down,
prepare for impact,
all hands on deck,
hands ready to write,
hands to document this torrent of inspiration pending.
Get ready!
Thar she blows!

Pause.

Nothing.
No thick burst of ice water,
not even a hint of sea mist,
nothing.
Not even a vacuum or gulf of space,
beyond space,
space imploded,
there is nothing in my head

and its weight is killing me.