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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, June 30, 2011

but you are an architect.

the unopened box on the front doorstep

is slumped over, sopped with rainwater

finding its place in the world near the door mat

the fan hums steady with an occasional tick

your hair squirms beneath the unstable air

while the television fakes soundless scenarios

if you don’t really care, why don’t you look away?

you consider life and its string of suspensions

crossing and building bridges, you are an engineer

calculating balances, waiting to expire

you used to burn everything down

haphazardly, you consider inherent sweetness

the softness of your shadow on the wall

the things you never finished

like the degree in architecture


© june 2011 heather brager

Monday, June 27, 2011

algophobia doesn't sleep.

in the stifled

and diffused hours


the fiend sometimes finds him

lying restless and unaided


it smells his skin and licks

the abscesses


of collapsed tremors

on the latent shell


that is suspended

on his sheets and pillow


emptiness can drown

in stagnant pools


drifting remains

the promise and veracity


the discarded words

he sometimes resists


grasping tightly

a buoy afloat


dodging mimetic drops

the sediment that may


smother the beast

and sink him into sleep


© june 2011 heather brager

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

pessimism of the intellect.

you’ve grown so weary

these efforts to be the cerulean gem

in the bottom of a bowl full

of dusty grey stones


you wear lethargy

this strangling scarf, a costume of lead

the lack of liquefaction

from the frozen chambers of compulsion


you navigate through fetid gloom

peering longingly at the fa├žade

more vertical contiguous cliffs

with broken and missing guard rails


you choose formidable riches

not successful completion of tedious tutorials

the rubbish you knew already

when you first awoke


you want more than a sense of triumph

for getting out of the crumpled bed

and looking yourself in the eye

in your filthy bathroom mirror


© june 2011 heather brager

Monday, June 20, 2011

familiarity breeds contempt.

you didn’t really know her the day

she sat on the stand, her hair pulled back

hands cold, translucent and damp

pressed flat against her thighs

as she confirmed another finale

hinging a quiet beginning

in a voice clear and level

that sounded just like her own

she was plain and resolute

woven inside of contradictions

and she barely knew herself



© june 2011 heather brager