"My name is Shari Borders. I am writer. I have indulged in this relationship between pen and paper for 35 years now, because writers must write. If you like these poems please checkout Spine Flower Blues, an anthology by the Chuparosas Writers, Sliding Down the Jawbone of God by Shari Borders, and also due out later this year Singing In Tongues by Shari Borders." For more information, contact Shari Borders

Morning Prayer As unspeakable and relentless As my first lie It seems That I have let you down That I have spent all reason My passion for life diminished Hold me     In your arms       while I stretch to see            If I will break              Dare me To challenge again my life   Elephant Goring a Rhino  (drunkard’s lament) last night's supper and my latest lie splash in the bowl and mix into poison emptiness lives here inside my fear saturated with self terrified with the denizens of my dreams cradled in my memories cobbled together with drink and blackouts i haven't seen this side of noon the sun cresting  outside my dingy window since my eyes changed from young to old in drinking i have no peer in life i have nobody i shred myself with the precision of an elephant goring a rhino then scream at god's ineptness into my empty room

As long as she keeps moving As long as she keeps moving she won’t feel the tear of the briars  the incessant rawness under her dreams or the fear of isolation carved out by dusk somewhere she is trapped in a silhouette  her addictions curse and saunter   under the night’s urges while wild freesias lend a hand in  cloaking the coming winter a tear left behind by a rain cloud  beads on a rose petal is the rose dying   perhaps she brushes recklessly   past the listless bloom is she also so fooled   by the thinness of her shadow her carelessness   once disarming and comfortable   has stolen away its loyalty she was so certain of her purpose  but now   this tugging in her chest   gives her no absolution her footing   has become precarious    slippery  the rose petals are falling now the freesias encrusted in gems of  sweet smells are unwittingly dressing  the night’s curious dance macabre   Tanka       a lone albatross              lives in my unconscious sea     my skin drenched in fear              from waters singing in tongues           the breakers won't let her die (A tanka is a five-line poetic form originating in Japan in which the syllabic pattern is 5-7-5-7-7.  More than haiku, tanka may stress metaphor and mood.)