The Paris Zoological Park is unveiling its new exhibit,
a bright yellow slime-mold dubbed The Blob --
a gelatinous, amoeba-like creature comprised of 720 different sexes.
It has no brain, no eyes, yet is intelligent enough
to seek food just like an animal does,
find its way through a maze,
heal itself. Museum staff
say it’s been around for millions of years,
feeds on leaves and logs,
loves oatmeal. It has no nervous system,
but may talk to itself by sending waves
through its body like an electrical sea.
Neither plant nor animal nor fungus,
it can split into many parts then fuse
itself back together. Without therapy.
It first came to the public’s eye in Texas,
a woman with a huge yellow blob growing
in her backyard. Even the New York Times covered it,
though the blob died before it could eat her garage,
unlike the Steve McQueen 50’s horror film
where the silver screen version eats buildings,
people. In the movie,
an Air Force cargo-craft transports the Blob to the Arctic,
where it is buried in ice. The military says the creature
may not be dead, but at least it’s been stopped.
McQueen replies, “Yeah, as long as the Arctic stays cold”.
The film ends with the words The End --
then morphs into a question mark. Which is
too profound for me to comment on.
Still, climate change may
change the way I read the Tibetan Book of the Dead.
When it comes time to pass over,
thumb the bardo brochures for what next to become,
I may bypass the human or heavenly realms --
on having sex with myself in 720 dizzying combinations,
eating oatmeal, solving puzzles. Humming to myself
along every gelatinous wave
of my electrifying body.