9/25 - CAI Lab (The Bear)

I did not care much for The Bear. I thought it was an interesting poem, however it was very harsh and a little bit too - vulgar is not the appropriate word - but disgusting. I found it hard to get into the beauty of the poem hearing about the gruesome way in which the bear dies, and how the poet hunts him. It's a very primal poem, and I find it hard to align myself with in that regard.

1. Brief synopsis: The poet is hunting the bear, sharpens a bone and places it in blubber so that the bear eats it. The poet continues tracking the bear, eats the bear's blood-soaked feces to survive, and eventually comes upon the bear, dying from the internal injuries of the bone. He cuts open the bear, eating briefly, and then climbs inside the bear to sleep. He then goes through somewhat of a transition into becoming the bear, and experiencing the bear's perspective.

2. The speaker is the hunter

3. Using the first-person narrator makes the poem feel much more personal, it really lessens the distance of the poem for the reader.

4. The hunter discovers the bear, lays his trap, and tracks the bear until he discovers the bear's body

5. The poet experiences a transformation to where he becomes the bear, experiencing her death and awakens in the world, somewhat unsure whether he is the bear or the hunter.

6. The poet eats the bear's feces, ingesting somewhat of its essence. The poet then physically enters the bear's carcass, and then mentally follows.

7. I suppose in order for the poet to truly understand the bear, he has to experience it in all ways, which would include becoming it.

8. The last section of the poem seems to be somewhat of a rebirth of the bear, and so a return to its essence. The poet seems to question, then, what was the essence on which he lived?

9. Yes, I think it does support those final lines. The poem is very fanciful, and so the transition from death, to rebirth, death again, and then true rebirth seems to support it.

Poem in response:

There are few among us
who would share their homes
with a monster
yet I did.

Covered in red hair
she gazed imperiously about
until her eyes settled
on a very still, slightly waxy chicken.

She stomped on it.
The chicken uttered a desperate
SQUEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee……..
She looked down at it
seeming to delight in its slow death.

Then, moving nothing but her eyes
she met my stare
as if to say
This chicken—is mine.
This house—is mine.
And you—
you are mine.