Inventory

A sharp and clever face

A biting wit

A fertile thumb

A feeling for the dough

Facility with words sufficient to bamboozle even me

Innumerable bruises at any give time, inside and out

A deep unease

     About my motivations, certainties, and trust

Compassion, hobbled by my doubts

Astounding arrogance and pride

     Combined with expectations none could meet, especially me

A small mole on the sole of my left foot

A callused right forefinger (balancing my blade)

A twining net of scars upon my arm, the map of my impatience

A hunch there can be more, even after forty-seven years

The list will grow and change...

Faith

Belief,

for no good reason, that:

the bread will rise
guests will laugh, slurp, nibble, flirt, and head home

sated, happy, eager to return

tomato seeds, pushed into warm and weedy earth, will fruit and topple
my touch will land, firm, gentle and precise
You will still be there, a warm and softly wheezing lump beneath the sheet
when I awake

all without my effort,
credit
or control

Mulitiplicit"I"ies

I am a conference of self
Rancorous, unintegrated, vying for control


I: Adventurer                             I: Protector of the Status Quo
Active, curious, engaged            Opinionated, certain, self-assured
Seeking novelty and risk             Cherishing the known, true, safe
Challenged, I leap                      Poked, I bite

I: Competitor                            I: Friend and Lover
Jealous, needy, insecure           Unselfconscious, 

                                                     considerate and warm
Pursuing victory                        Caring for the other
Stroked, I purr   Asked, I give


Somewhere at the center: one fixed point
A budding Bodhisattva
Aware, awake, and unattached
Watches with compassion
A little bit amused.
Please, take charge…

Before the First Bout

Poised, on guard
Slowly, slowly letting go my breath
Savoring the most perfect moment
The next few minutes, a glorious unknown
    There is a chance,
            My mind will clear
           My feet will dance,
           My blade will find its mark
    I will be clever, cunning, humorous and wise
I will be bold and unconstrained
I will, I will…
All things are possible…
Choose

Falling Short

Я пуля в оружии
Я катушка пружине
Я наскок в кошке

Но, иногда

Порох влажен
Катушка застревает
Кошка спит

I am the bullet in the gun
I am the coiled spring
I am the cat's leap

But sometimes

The powder is damp
The spring jams
The cat sleeps

Барсук Доверия

доверять(ся)

I trust
Each action has no end
Each touch—only a beginning
Phrase flows to phrase
A conversation patiently unfolds

Я доверяю
Каждое действие не имеет никакого конец
Каждое укол есть только начало
Фраза течет в фраза
Разговор терпеливо открывается

in collaboration with V. Pokalenko

Facing the Target

Three perfect touches at each distance
A small ambition

Three, and three is six,
And three is nine, and three is twelve—perfection, bliss.

But building touch on touch is like balancing
A stack of cups, a house of cards
Each next one less stable than the last
And tension rises as I near the twelfth
As if it mattered
As if it had significance, and weight

But why? The end is not an end
This a circle, not a line
I touch the twelfth,
Step close, and start the round again

Strategy

Strategy (in few words)

Breathe Дышите
Watch Наблюдайте
Dance Танцуйте
See См.
Explode Взорвитесь
Pause Пауза
Assess Оцените
Think Думайте
Don’t think Не думайте
Act Сделайте
Breathe Дышите

Repeat Повторитесь

A Quantum Theory of Fencing

First Theorem
I exist
In two conflicting states
Belief and unbelief
I see
Countless possibilities
And hard, unyielding truth
I hear
Everything you say
But know

Nothing of who you are

On some level, are we truly one?

Second Theorem
My opponent is entangled in my truth
Our patterned touches spangled on lames
I see his actions prior to his acts
My mind shapes exactly his attacks
(Spooky action at a fencing distance)
He marches, blade occupying everywhere at once
But in the end
All his possible attacks collapse to one
Exactly where my blade waits
Anticipating future states

I am here now; both beginning and the end

Third Theorem
Aware of all, focused on none
Balanced on the narrow edge
Forward and back
Future and past
Action and reaction
Curious and open to any end
Detached observer of the bout