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Heather Brager
Juggler of Calamity. Writer and Artist. Contradiction and Mother.
Juggler of Calamity. Writer and Artist. Contradiction and Mother.
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muddy water.
does she descend upon your grayscale, or tender unacknowledged criterion with need carefully spelled in musical interpretation and intricate visual renderings does harmony seep through the dark irises and cochlea, soaking through to your muscle in ochre, he...

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invisible lines.
there is a story being
written an unfolding of paper small enough to rest comfortably
in       your palm corners tattered
from turning  lines over, and
over  between  your dirty                    fingertips it is filled with companions watching from the
sh...

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9:13 p.m.
and the
ascent to your door,
inhaling the shameless
dusk that heralds you, a blade
unwavering wrapping
itself around two pieces
carefully held, hard
charcoal and powder soft
chalk, your words
outlined by panic
creeping along the outskirts,
the solid red the...

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9:13 p.m.
and the ascent to your door, inhaling the shameless dusk that heralds you, a blade unwavering wrapping itself around two pieces carefully held, hard charcoal and powder soft chalk, your words outlined by panic creeping along the outskirts, the solid red the...

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give me two minutes.
what if I am just running in place still circling back to our own familiar and situational tragedy back to late summer into the fall the way I let your eyes pin me down the way your coy hesitation is still sneaking through my door back to being drunken on t...

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little white lies.
while we lie awake, nursing our intrinsic fabrications each association fragile, subjective this liquid want with teeth and confusion with soft skin just speak the truth, confront the fears chasing you down wait patiently for the explanation  you have alrea...

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you may never know.
she carries crooked years tucked neatly in both pockets hands full of hard lessons trailing behind like crumbs she is not lost and does not beg to be found she will feed you and quietly watch you sleep on her pillow with splinters and hope she will be gone ...

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things I don't say.
whether or not  you comprehend, I can  see through the beautiful  skin stretched  across your chest  to the cells colliding  behind your rib cage.   you think you  control your heart the direction that  blood flows, the valves  and complex mechanisms that m...

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everything you pretend to be.
why would he hesitate her flesh beneath the quiet beauty  a quivering projection  from somewhere overhead without a forest floor emptiness left downwind skeletons reduced  to pieces in a puzzle his face turns south  abandoned structures  neglected grass cal...

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color.
now she may not be convinced that you sense or observe the world with the same spectrum of longing though she willingly would have taught you to breathe in aqua and weave cerulean blue to the rhythm of the salt lamp and vinyl stroking the brilliantly acute ...
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