I get all kinds of visitors. Some are scientists, some are kids who are cryptozoologists-in-training, some are teachers, bakers, and models. The world is full of all kinds of people intrigued by cryptozoology.
Very, very infrequently, as happened yesterday, someone stops by, pays their five dollars admission, and tells me they have just come from a house warming party. But he was calm and filled with wonder. He stepped into my museum, the last alone man of the day.
I then realized later last night that this gentleman must have gone home and created a fantasy poem based a bit on his visit to the International Cryptozoology Museum, and a lot about what was happening in his head. That’s okay, it was something pleasant to read before I went to bed.
Perhaps this is a new category we should call “cryptofiction poetry” or just “CryptoPoetry.”
From the website self, I found this poem “had ideas,” by iambarr:
went to see a man today.
went to see a man about the unknown, because, you see, i had questions. turns out that asking questions is not enough to deserve answers. his name is loren coleman and, when it comes to the unknown, there are few who can rival his knowledge. bigfoot, yeti, coelocanth, jersey devil, mothman: these are coleman’s areas of expertise. there are secret things, unknowable things, unmentionable things that coleman has dedicated his life to..drunken, i asked him about love.
he told me to leave. he doesn’t deal in fairy tails.
Alas, I wish iambarr would have asked about love,
A topic almost as mysterious as foxglove.
Instead we spoke of the dodo related to the dove,
Tom Slick and his fear of publicity,
Caused by Machine Gun Kelly’s duplicity.
You were a pleasant young man,
Standing underneath the can,
Of the octopus style giant squid.
But I’m afraid I lost you to your id.
You seemed as if you were a bit undid.
May you soon recover
And do discover
The love you truly do seek
With your girlfriend this week.
Passion, you see,
Is an interest of me.
But mostly of cryptid whales,
And beautiful smart females.
And certainly not of airedales.
Handrails. Coattails. Cocktails.
Or supposed Bigfoot toenails.
~ Loren
Ah, a mild bit of criticism from down under.
Fear not, a cryptozoologist I remain.
But why throw this young man’s dreams asunder?
It may be his only escape route from Maine.
Yes, I spoke of that contest here and there. I submitted something, although I don’t recall learning they won anything. Here’s why. LOL.
“Me-Teh Weeping” by Loren Coleman
Not white, not alone
The abominable one
Yeti here, then gone
(April 10, 2006)
and
“Here, Not There” by Loren Coleman
Thylacine, not seen
Don’t look in Tasmania
Search west Australia
(April 12, 2006)