It's the beginning of the year,
for me:
My rebirthday

​& deathday
& my re-public day
altogether;

​if ever there was
a day in the year
​that I would wish
to celebrate ...

​the beginnings of
thoughts,
of hopes, of
(new) lives!

The ends of existences
​& histories
& so many losses:

My season!
My pumpkins!
​The Halloween
​I grew up
​not knowing,

​That light you get when you put a candle
inside a hollowed-out Kurbis
​with a horrid smile:

My light:
​warm, flickering,
​not constant, but burning as long
as the cold world
will allow it &

Coming back!

Every other day &
​every year,
​for no explicable reason,

on the
11th of October.

I hardly remember the beginnings.

I wonder:
Is the beginning less solid?

Does pain last longer (than joy)?
​or is it erased (joy) by (pain)?

Why that?

Why not light over dark?
& 'love over all!'?

​Why does the end outlast
​the beginning?

​Already I forget how we started.
​I remember now mostly
how we continued.  Later,
​I will remember only

​the End.

6.

​I breathe deep

as Wonderland water flows
in icy-cold stream gurgles
all night,
​steaming at the not-so-cold night air,
​(anomaly of water?)
​giggling in the dark
​& sharing jokes out-loud
with the rocks (underneath)
our pillows.

​Cricket songs and frog accompaniments
gather in thick swarms
that, sleep-walking through,
you cannot help
​getting in your ears.
​