Queen of hearts on the foredeck
Five fathoms from the horses neck
Jules Verne consider the possibilities:
Sliced citrus or sea biscuits
Suppose ladybug scents unveiled
The secrets of curved space
A horse hair telegram
Floats through the portal
Giant worms in the sewers of Tahiti (stop)
Come at once (end)
He runs the follicle
Through his fingers
The print of his thoughts
No word from Webster (stop)
The New Haven is sinking (stop)
Leave worms be (stop)
No sleep in Sumatra (stop)
The generals are angry (end)
The Thomas Edison Illuminating Company
Is looking for cartographers.
The first baseball
Rolls against his boot.
Jules reaches for the voice tube
He inhales deeply
I need a watercolorist from the Royal Academy
These depths are as black as ink.
During the Dog Watch, at two bells,
He hears a rustle of petticoats.
Ghost and shadows!
Where is my stellar scope.
A herd of white camels
Waits in the corner.
Bedouin traders bargain with cool water.
Fifteen years to perfect
Stained glass for a submarine
And he sleeps through a school of phosphorescent plankton.
A guide to the butterflies of Paraguay
Rest in his garden.
An original manuscript sheet from the files
Of Ludwig Von Beethoven
Marks the dream of a chrysalis.
His velvet robe has gold spun collars.
The novels of Jules Verne are
Uninformed dialectics of the imagination.
An Alaskan cigar burns on the scales of justice.
Prisoner 417529 smells seals in solitary.
His sentence moves like a glacier
Through the backlots of a silent movie.
An ocelot leaps from the African Baedecker to his lap.
Jules scratches each ear
Until the great cat purrs herself to sleep.
At eight bells on the night watch
A snack appears on a silver tray.
His children leabor below deck
Picking fish bones from the airshafts
A meticulous job
Jules Verne cracks each ostrich egg with a spoon
His chef is Burmese,
Four generations before electricity
Breakfast is perfect
Resistance holds the key to underwater kingdoms
Jules Verne, your future looks like
A shipwreck on the Gobi desert
Your eyes are marble buttons sewn
In the head of a stuffed iguana
A two-ton tale lies in your hands
Relevance is a philosophical enigma.
His room empties like a firedrill.
Cabin pressure at twenty thousand leagues
Is no match for the miners of Titan
Rubber grommets sunk the ship
The cat kneads his shoulder
A blue rose washes on the beach at Pitcairn island
Two years before the mutiny
His last memory, the tast of salt
On the tongue of a dead mariner
The Victorian guard opens the cell
A river of mercury
Illuminates the shadow of his coat
Exploration is the incarceration of flight
How else explain the evaporation
Of hallucinatory hunting in the rain forests of Babylon?
Pragmatic people will never grasp
The significance of
An empty armchair,
The silence of a typewriter,
Or the sounding of a nautilus shell
Landlocked in the fireplace of a Siberian kitchen
The wedding band of Jules Verne
Falls through the waters of time
We, his surrogate eyes, blink in recognition
At the realization of his darkest days.
A menagerie of mechnical beasts
Grazing in the fluorescent lights of a lost world
And returns our gaze.