By LINDA RODRIGUEZ RED LION MAN Horses flee and forests catch fire as you hunt after and through them for the object of your desire. You are hunger, craving what you don’t have, what you don’t know, what you will never find, destroying swathes in the wake of your frantic hunt, chasing the unknown until thirst and hunger stop you and you devour and drink down everything in reach and sleep fells you in mid-reach, mid-growl. In the midst of this sleep which can no longer be fought off with your fierceness, overpowered at last, you are laid out, vulnerable in spite of claw and fang and muscle and roar. In that moment, that which you desire ventures from its hiding place, looks upon you with pity and great shudders, then flees for the coast, for the desert, for the temple, for the city, for any place that offers temporary shelter or deep shadow. 40 Each time you survive that unguarded sleep, your desire, your rage grows. They will summon groups of warriors to hunt you and kill what they fear and flee. It will take long, bloody battles with many wounds and deaths before your own. As your desperate spirit separates from the dying flesh of your beast, you will hear in the distance your desired one singing a mourning song in tones as clear as bells, and bitterness will consume all that is you, Red Lion Man, this swing of the wheel.