#13

The jaw of the Pacific,
a dragon loosens itself as fog
from the cliffs, inhales.

Tail of the beast,
lifted cloud scales,
transparent white blur.

The dragon, the stongest
for knowing this all
does not exist.

A leap from the mountains,
a tumble through the redwoods,
a landing on the rocks

that grind the ocean blue,
that make the water the sky,
that ends all distinction between the two.