DesiderBEARata

Published in Richard Bulger’s Bear Magazine,

Volume 2, #6, 1988, page 46

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“DesiderBEARata”

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Go grizzly amid the bears and lairs,

and remember what furry comfort there may be

in grabbing a pelt thereof.

Avoid hairless men unless they are bear-spirited

and don’t mind tweezing their teeth

after currying your coat.

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The bear necessity of life is bear lust in your own heart,

and in the heart of bear bounty hunters.

Speak glowingly of those hairier than yourself,

and heed well their color-coded hankies.

Avoid bear traps like electrolysis.

Remember that a rendezvous with two lovers on a bearskin

does not necessarily a three-bears idyll make.

Whenever possible, mark your territory.

Scratch your number on toilet walls.

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Be comforted that in the jaded face of beardless fucking

and despite the plucked fortunes of time,

somewhere in Iowa a chicken is turning into a cub.

Do not a cub-scout master become.

You cannot do two packs a day.

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Bend over on all fours, but walk erect.

Exercise caution in your affairettes,

especially with those closest to you:

that hairless dildo you live with, for instance.

Be assured that a walk through a backroom bar

will wet your paws.

Fall not into the urinal therefore:

you will soak your hair balls.

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Thankfully surrender the things of twinks:

tweezers, size 28 Levi’s, and deodorized armpits.

Let not poppers substitute for the heavy hit of mansweat.

Write personal ads for hunting bears:

tattooed, uncut, built like brick shit houses, whatever.

Seek hairy buttholes and ye shall find.

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Meanwhile, for a good time,

mirror-fuck yourself,

hardon in hand:

groom your coat,

curry your hairy thighs and butt,

stroke your furry chest,

and pray for the miracle

of a hairy back and shoulders.

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Take bruin heart

amid the deepening gloom

that big, low-hanging bear balls

and thick, ursine foreskin

are somewhere dripping bear grease

for you to lick.

Cruise the wilds where bears shit in the woods.

Reflect that whatever is the shortage of bears in your location,

bears are not an endangered species.

Bears are simply the rarest of the rare.

You are a manimal of the universe,

whether you are cub, bear, or hairless bear-groomer.

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Living “bear” is a state of mind.

Relax.

Remember, protected under

the Orion Constellation of the Great Bear,

that behind the cosmos,

there is no great mystery–

only a couple of big-hairy-deal joke books.

Therefore, make peace with your Master,

whatever you consider Him to be:

hirsute caveman

or bear-bellied, grizzly Harley-Daddy

with upholstered punch-fucker knuckles;

or hairy linebacker college stud

with coarse hair pouring over the neck of his football jersey.

Visualize your ideal bear.

Be mindful that what you are looking for…

…is looking for you!

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With all its bar and bruncherie talk of

gyms,

real estate,

rising consciousness,

and bear markets,

the shaved world continues to fuck up.

Hug your Teddy.

Be happy.

Do what you must and

call it by the best name possible:

bearable.

Drink unflavored gelatin daily

to increase the growth of your fur.

Dream of black bears, and blond, and red, and silver.

Know when to growl and when to purr.

Try not to drool.

Above all, remember that manimals grow hairier as they mature.

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Bear up!

Be thankful you appreciate husky, balding, polar bears

as much as furry cubs.

No matter how hairy or hairless you are,

the incredible lightness of being bear

is in your head.

Keep your bearings.

Be thankful

you were ever cuddled

in the first place.

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