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 Jun 2016 Maria Imran
hkr
casually
 Jun 2016 Maria Imran
hkr
i want to be everything all at once forever
casually, like: **** dude, they said you could be president, too? i’ll rock paper scissors you for it
i **** at rock paper scissors, but i **** more at sticking with things that only make me ½, ⅓, ¼ happy
not to mention things i’m bad at but do you even know how good i am at a subject you don’t teach?
columbia, harvard, princeton, yale, brown, dartmouth, upenn, and cornell do
they just don’t know they do, so shhh. i wrote someone else’s name on those essays
i don’t care who knows mine, i’m just trying to keep it out of the obituaries
just one more year ‘till i’m too old to die young
— but who’s counting?
not me, not me, not me.
 Mar 2016 Maria Imran
Et cetera
When you came into my life
I stopped counting words
fears and doubts
I still have them, but then
I also have you.

Counting is a strange thing
I can count my books
(I have a lot of them)
I can count your poems
(You have a lot of them)
I can count the years we've lived
(May we live more, together)
I can count my qualities
And I can count my scars
I can count the events which changed me
I might even be able to count yours
I can even count the stars
If I set my mind to it
It seems more possible
Than counting the goodness
Which you have in you

I cannot count the smiles you've given me
(They are more than the stars)
I cannot count the advice you've given me
(I hold it close to heart)
I cannot count the love you have for me
(It makes me laugh and cry when I try)
I cannot count the time I want to spend with you
(The conventions of hours won't accept it)
I cannot count your person
(You hold too much inside you)
Your depth and your beauty
(And everything that doesn't have a name)

So since I fell in love with you, Hamid
I've discovered that I don't try counting
Numbers lost their meaning
And I've never been good at math anyway.
I simply will not listen,

To anything you say,

I'll sit and drink,

Try not to think,

Of what I did today.
 Mar 2016 Maria Imran
BB Tyler
"don't follow me."
and she walked solemn from the field
to the forest
tree by tree deeper

I stood still a long time
longer still as she receded
and in my mind I saw her go
again and again
meadow all about my ankles
the wind
brushing my thighs with
the seed-tops of wild grasses
so dead yellow
so slightly green in the recent spring

Above the sky
stars in every direction
saw the whole thing
and said nothing

She and I were not to meet again.

I built my home there from
fallen branches at the meadow-edge,
and though I never knew the deep lush of those woods
my life in some way followed her
thru the tree shadows
and even now
is resting on her shoulder
as she sits by a
sylvan pool
quiet
while I thru
cloud patterns
witness deep space

the crickets singing
 Mar 2016 Maria Imran
BB Tyler
Feelings of accomplishment are short-lived.
As are feelings of pain.

Pipe in hand, to lip,
smoke in the air,
short-lived.

The rain drop ripples forming on the surface,
short-lived.

New buds of Spring,
pink and green,
short-lived.

Even the trees
warming my home
piece by piece.

I'll walk once more
around the pond
before bed.
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