Issue 2: J.P. Dancing Bear

Gacela of the Foxes

for Ryan G. Van Cleave

You sleep in the warmth of a den of foxes
under the brush and the song of grass
and you know in this world you must use teeth
and wits to defend and to provide.

You don’t want to be this mathematical
in the red calculations of us or them.
You don’t want be that clever machine in the grass
with the moonlit chicken coop so close.

You have to think of the den, and the ones
who would hunt you with cousin dogs.
You want the grass to cover your reds with greens
black in the silvery light, because the moon

is an egg—the goddess of all eggs—the big catch
taunting you to feed your den with it;
you wear that every night you hunt
and return with something smaller than its circumference.

You are the slinking red in the landscape’s dream
playing with your den mates, teaching them
not to be only what others see and say them to be—
but to be red joy, red play, red laughter, among the tall grass.

--J.P. Dancing Bear

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Issue 2: J.P. Dancing Bear

There You Are

(Poem Starting with a Line by Margot Schilpp)

            “No matter where you go, there you are.”

                                    —Firesign Theater

Tell the trees you'll see them later

make it more of a promise, perhaps

a prophesy—although not so much

hoopla regarding your return. Say so

long to the birdies, chirpingly if you must,

you know to keep it short, almost

over your shoulder, they never were

great with departures anyway.  Heels

clacking the asphalt, you become

the metronome for all walkers.  It's easy—

making distance happen, leaving home,

turning your back from all those things

you love—so easy.  You can gait the world

and you'll know if you start to circumnavigate,

when on the other side —halfway— the path

turns muddy and rocky, the moment

you begin to turn and face the things you left.

Your muscles will chirp with pain as you wade

through the muck swamp of your doing,

that darker side we all must traverse,

to come back the wiser, older, harrowed

one —don't say hero here— it wasn't bravery

at all that made the quest.  Just one foot

before the other, hoping to see the dawn

coming through the open arms of trees.

--J.P. Dancing Bear

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