A Poem By – Thomas A Robinson Thomas , Borders and Fences
Borders and Fences
Nigel Borrington
Borders and Fences
Your borders
are mending fences
And false fiction
is the elevated
runoff of the headwaters
of your dreams
And the people black framed
in the cages
of the eternal moment’s collapse
Will gather generating
candle light wisdom
of those
who deny existence
A Poem for an Archer
A target pinned and solid-seeming
but mine is all in motion
I draw the bowstring back
and farther back
Were I to let it fly would it sink deep?
But now my muscles shake
fingers torn against the string
velocity all poorly aimed
I cannot decipher which target is my own
Can I split this arrow with the force of my own wishes,
shower the sky with a quivering flight,
live out each peculiar path?
Or must I choose now
release my hold
wide-eyed or blindfolded
poised or confused
Nigel Borrington 
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