  SOEN'S DRAGON  There are some things we know  before we had words to tell us  we knew them.  We are fastened to them  though they are not fastened to us.  Remember once April hills held the snow  and field stones were warm in the sun.  I basked like an old dog  and found a newt dead by my foot.  It's with me now.  The eye sockets are empty.  There is nothing inside.  How did the body survive the winter?  How did it escape  the birds and small animals  to die there,  dry, perfect in each detail,  whole down to the last brown toe?  As we clutch and breathe  the smoke of sublimation  I hold this light of emptiness  in my hand.  