I know a man who sleeps so deep
Each morning is a Jules Verne
Return

Where tentacles squeeze and suck around his will
At every league he seeks to rise

For even one eye to half open
Is a journey fit for Ovid’s prose

Every full-eyed awakening
A campaign to puzzle Sun Tzu

Until the sun reaches far enough to find him

A stunned collapsed Ulysses
Sipping coffee half upright
On a battlefield of pillows.