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I’ve kicked the damn bucket
                                         turned it upside down
pieces of a lae fell out, yards of fabric
hand-woven bright

The spill was tremendous
out came tinksa’s
         prayer flags
singing bowls
and melted glass 
from Pele

Kneeling in the snow
    of winter, in I peer
the bottom is not insight,
wetness shimmers and seas call
       oil films
on Northern lights

Before me, before my time
my Grandad played kick-the-can
           damn good idea
as toe meets bucket, I howl
perhaps, I will go see
a polar bear!

No regrets fill my bucket
for I want mine full of colored bits of Lhasa
windchimes from Bhutan

Dented, by life marked, decorated
hell morphed, I intend to rise
on comet tails
    look for me
in ashes       on a wind
in the H i m a l ayas


Poet: Debbie Guzzi

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