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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. 

Tuesday, November 27, 2012


there is a yellow home
three proud stories with painted gingerbread
that waits patiently for her
leaning quietly and sighing through the seasons
it watches the random gene of bravery
that nudges her along in a warped plane
a careful but curious overlap of realities

she can understand the creaks of boards
that speak to her soundlessly through the ether
she contemplates another woman's memories
that have set up camp in her head, while
she dreams awake through her daily life
and waiting at traffic lights
in another world that is miles or years away

from the black and white cat
who bends slowly around her ankles
whiskers whispering in the sunlit kitchen
speaking the familiar synergy
that she wonders how
she can understand

© 11.27.12 heather brager

Tuesday, November 20, 2012


we have come miles now
seasons revolve within us
we won’t hibernate

© 11.20.12 heather brager

Friday, November 16, 2012

scenery and a soundtrack.

she was in the south, the dry flanks echoing
stretching inside-out on all sides
birds of prey and iridescent clouds losing altitude
lucinda williams in the speakers
and emptiness in her palms

she was that eagle flying east and west
the midwest stretching lazily beneath her
speaking through the voice of bob dylan in the earbuds
stirring her to dream of the deciduous trees
and trilliums that raised her

she was consumed by the promise of the sea
the urban rhythms and city lights
heels in alleyways and over cobblestones
slaid cleaves on the stage and this man beside her
stirring optimism in her glass

© 11.16.12 heather brager

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

a new day.

there it is, seeping
the wounds and light are the same
we are transforming

© 11.13.12 heather brager

Thursday, November 8, 2012

a promise.

it is not a wonder, you
ceased hearing
the sweeping hush of green boughs
outside the window

as the cities
and faces click by, you
lurch toward the guard rails
press against a bitter wind,
wish to rest your eyes

you visualize the frayed edges
of this mislaid joy, the time
when you could bend down
and lift promises to your chest

it is not a wonder, in this
world you molded,
the perspective to lose
has been lost
in the continuum 

© 11.8.12 heather brager