Look, so I do really like poetry that plays really well to form—a professor in college once called me a formalist after hearing a music composition I’d put together for an assignment, and I think he was probably about right. (Stay tuned for my eventual review of The Little Book on Form, which I own in hardback and is not remotely describable as little.) Playing to a set of rules rather than not can produce more interesting results when the form fits the content; here it manages to evoke the memory of old songs about dramatic shipwrecks despite being at its heart a joke post.
(Things I am also a fan of: terrifying cave diving stories. Plumbing the spooky, alien, never-before-seen depths of the world is amazing—places on our planet as unknown to us as outer space!—and also I would definitely never do it, because I am both a bad swimmer and don’t have a death wish.)