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"Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard." Anne Sexton 

Heather Brager is a critically acclaimed juggler of calamity, an accomplished procrastinator, and shuffler of idioms. Her poetry and drawings can be found in various digital and print journals around the globe, and on the web.  She currently resides in New England and prefers the precipice of where the Atlantic meets the sand to the official looking office where she spends most of her time. 

Thursday, February 24, 2011

matters of attraction.

the dust is falling
drifting on air emulsified
a flurry of discontent

the table tops
are waiting
and the television
drones static
while he’s pretending
to be there

lyrics in the stereo
simplicity is waning
in signal saturation
on repeating waves
riding the synopsis
in patterns

the nomadic particles
force sunlight
to show their scars


© heather brager 2.24.2011



Monday, February 21, 2011

Ctrl Alt Del

we all do our best
sometimes forgetting our place
fifteen years backward


© heather brager 2.21.2011

point of contention.

on these empty roads
my tax dollars recently
widened from A to B
I have traveled often past
an abandoned gas station
the lanes curving sharply
to the left after signs warn
to slow down to 30 mph

that little ghost town is
blanketed in western dust
broken windows are grimy openings
to wandering souls
where no one looks outside

there is a gravel turn off
and a scenic view of
some snowy peak
I can’t recall names
mayflies and gnats whisper
in muffled hisses
urging me back into the car
to continue on my way
and stop disturbing
their deserted air

sometimes there is a destination
with signs showing
where to enter and depart
when I get lost by chance
maybe I will pause
engine idle and music low
to plan my return route
considering every path there
and possible detours


© heather brager 2.21.2011


Friday, February 18, 2011

sometime in her 40s.

she imagines sultry or edgy
that he caught his breath in
that ugly vacillation in her step
in heels and a dress, but
never like that younger tramp

icy bitter and resentful
an oblivious iniquity
the shallows of understanding
saturating the surface layer
and drowning her in mediocrity

she reorganizes her image
amid a life of artificial crisis
wallowing in envy and
coveting singular moments
just waiting for that opportunity
to bang down her door


© heather brager 2.18.2011



Wednesday, February 16, 2011

not an option.

centered is futile

left or down, hardly balanced

holding the fulcrum


palms leveled even

waiting for changes or heat

left holding the bag


moments owe nothing

earth is hardwired for time

we find fair again



© heather brager 2.16.2011

Thursday, February 3, 2011

for a.g.


the day will come
language cold as the ice
pelting winter panes
the sentences
will drift into
mountainous debris
and wreckage heaps
that require shovel
and slog
or springtime sun
to melt them away


© heather brager 2.3.2011

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

another winter day.

icy rhetoric

the air, a reverse vacuum

cutting a pale pelt


© heather brager 2.2.2011




(art by princesssfi via deviantart.com)