Friday, November 11, 2022

Where have all the gila monsters gone?

I apologize to readers for my recent absence. The cause: My inspiration, an advanced reptile, has absconded! One day in July I realized that the only remaining friend I have in this universe, Robert the Telepathic Gila Monster, had left the airwaves silent for too long. I trekked out into the Mojave toward the gila enclaves I knew, and found them gone. I.E. All the gila monsters were gone! Not just Robert. What a sock in the gut. When it comes to sentient beings other than oneself, you never know how much you need them until they, you know, dump you.

I guess Robert did dump me. Why else would he not have messaged my cerebrosphere, something he was never shy about?

Of course I don't really know. Maybe a cosmic mudpuppy craving telepathic caviar on the planet's surface dive bombed and slurped them up.

Whatever, now my consciousness is as alone as the 16 million consciousnesses on the other side of the San Gabriels, where there were precious few gila monsters to begin with.

Does all great poetry come from the pain of an isolated soul? Where does bad poetry come from? The same place? Go figure.

I wrote a poem while sitting on one of Robert's favorite rocks:

Lipitor Sunrise

by Harry the Human


I found my father in the dead zone late last night

He had concluded that everything I thought was right

Was it you? Or was I the one who was uptight?

Mom was simply out of sight


She was not in the dead zone

She had traveled to a space her own

One we had not known


Let us pray to ancient Egypt's God of the Animal Mind

to give a reassuring sign

that in the final unity you don't find

existence sparked by eating your own kind

I did get a clue as to Robert's whereabouts, in a dream. I was walking at night in downtown Santa Barbara. Results from the U.S. midterm elections were flashing from store windows. The sidewalks were crowded with college students and inland families. I found that no matter which direction I walked, I was going the wrong way, everyone was walking against me and I had to continually dodge them.


"We got tired of dodging" came a familiar voice, seemingly from a lamp post.


"Robert!" I cried,"Where are you? Why don't you have to dodge anyone?"


"Because there is only the one place, and every soul is in it and of it."


"Really?" I marvelled.


"Yes, it's boring as crap."


Sorry to leave readers hanging, but this is my progress so far. I'll get back to you soon with more findings as I investigate the plight of the increasingly elusive Mojave gila monster.

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