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Touching the Art. · 1W ago

breathing flora.

in a dream I planted a lily at the bottom of the sea, with pale cupped hands, I gently placed her roots beneath the shifting sand, dark water churned againstmy skin under light refracting fr...
Touching the Art. · 1M ago

love as metaphor.

these flowers we prune,water, expose to the light,then string up to die© 11.20.2017 heather brager
Touching the Art. · 2M ago

aurora, aurora.

lent to the autumn gusts, jeweled trees murmuring truth under an expectant moon, monthspregnant with probability, rich withfaltering grace, left tangled in silent spells and threats of darkness on their heels, oh breathe, breathe the absence hunted a...
Touching the Art. · 3M ago

October, begin.

and just like that, all of the endings weredrawn to sea, imaginary burdens pulled deepunder the morning tide as it succumbed to the shoreline, unlimited power sucked against my boots, with b...
Touching the Art. · 4M ago

time, doors, and nothing.

I haven’t written you a poem for several weeks,not because there are no words, (but lord knows you never listen)because broken clocks are only right twice a day, and brokenclocks are always ...
Touching the Art. · 5M ago

every step echoes.

she will not speak of clemency, the remnants of your intentions have clearly cut scars along blue veins in her handsyour poems still sneak through the stillness, late into the evening, pages...
Touching the Art. · 6M ago

the only thing to fear.

"Offer them what they secretly want and they of course immediately become panic-stricken." Jack Kerouac I once thought that Iwould love every man I ever loved,carry his DNA in my molecules, his words would gently fold into the recesses of mygrey matt...
Touching the Art. · 6M ago

take a bow.

perhaps I should not admit howmany times I read the words you doled out like cookies to a family dog: here, sit while I neglect your adoration, stay while I repeat the patterns that have wor...
Touching the Art. · 7M ago

jagged little pills.

the wreckage has been surveyed many times over, an itinerary carefully deleted, line by resonant linethe dark ring inside yesterday’s porcelain cup left on the kitchen counter, diluted bourbon onthe bedside table next to the Ativan when did we learn ...
Touching the Art. · 7M ago

windsor street.

as I stoop to pick up a tarnished penny, time collapsesI am a funeral’s pace, fingers slowly scraping the pavement,hair falling forward in a fluid motion, gentlystroking the back of my freck...