A Touch

Can be an accident a 

Fluke of fate a 

Side effect of 

Flailing blade 

A cheap and easy shot 

A crutch 

A sleazy shot that 

Almost shouldn’t count 

(Almost) 

A fertile seed containing 

Replicable DNA 

A template for 

Future success 

A victory a 

Trusted tool, the 

Hard-won culmination of

A patient plan 

A jolt of serotonin that will 

Keep me coming back 

Even when it lands

Just one time out of ten

Tutorial

Every time that something starts to work, you

Make it harder

Dangling an elegant new skill

Effective

Deadly

Just beyond my reach

An exercise in

Escalating scales

Seems like lessons are the process of

Sequential failure

Always seeking for the next thing

I can’t do

Plowing on past mastery to find where

I fall short

A blade-thin line divides

Complacent competence from

Terminal frustration

I realize, in my random motes of wisdom

However much I long for comfort

Kudos, praise

This is the learning zone:

The razored edge between

Discomfort and perfection

Check List

Is my shoulder loose my

Arm relaxed my

Grip upon the blade

Correct

Is my weight on my back

Leg my shins upright my

Hind foot tucked beneath my

Bum

Are my advances small and neat with

Variable speed and random

Length, always ready to

Leap back

Is my gaze glued to your chest

My distance finely gauged my

Lunge spontaneous and

Nicely timed

Got all that?

Yup. Neatly queued and tallied on the sheet

Each square ticked off.

So fabulous, now

God dammit, throw away the list

Rehab Rap

It’s the knee
The thumb
Feeling kinda numb
The ankle or the wrist,
Suffering a twist
The shoulder or the
Toe is
Fillin’ up with woe
Settled in the joint, in the muscle in the
Bone
The pain, or the tweak,
Makes itself at home
The throb or the jab
A momentary weak spot
Could even be a
Blood clot
(Isn’t that a sick thought!)

Got a bang
Or a bruise
And I’m threatening to lose
Some functionality
Fightin’ back with punctuality
Every day at the gym
Move the limb
Take a swim
Do a lift or a curl
Make the muscles unfurl
Tame the inflammation
Fend off degradation
Trying for salvation
Hoping that the next part
Isn’t going to come apart
Try’n to make a fresh start

Here I am on the mat
Layin’ flat
Feeling fat
Working on the hamstring
Try’n to do the right thing
Try’n to heal, Try’n to deal
Try’n to tame Achilles’ heel

No matter that I’m strong, I know it’s not for long
Susceptible to injury, I’m movin’ pretty gingerly
Hey, I’d wear body armor for protection from harm, or
Anything for luck, what the [poem redacted for young ears]
It’s worth a chance if it could possibly enhance
My invulnerability
Increase my stability
Limit my liability
Indestructibility
Not to mention fallibility

You got any advice
You won’ have to tell me twice
Just keep it concise
Tell me how to
STAY HELL-THY!

Palimpsest

I feel raw

Scraped and overwritten
Reused, Repurposed
Pumiced
Milked clean

Layered shreds of
Stratigraphic codices
Documenting
Educative eras past
Ghostly underwriting
Intermingled
Texts
New-found wisdom bleeds
Into the old
Resurfacing at
Most peculiar angles

I find this overlay

Yields

Neologic teachings
Fragmented stratums
Systems disparate yet
Synched

A caution, if you think you can erase the past
And start anew,
Indelible notations may prove tricky to redo

Stalking Happiness

A most elusive beast
Easy to scare off
Hard to pin down
Adept at Esquive

Successful expeditions must be
Indirect
Oblique
Seemingly pursuing other prey:
Health, strength, skill
Dominance or victory

Thunder hell-bent in pursuit of other goals--
You may well find you’ve
Snared a rush of joy as
By catch
Lagniappe
Collateral

Don’t get cocky—happiness is never caught the same way twice
And never will stay caught

Play Date

No score
What a great subversive twist!
A psychic liberation
No hormone-ridden clash, no angst
Just curious experiments
Empiric testing of hypotheses in
Endless permutations

We set the timer and
Proceed to frisk
Open-ended forays leading
Who knows where
Digressions, loops and ambulations
Testing a then b then c
Progressive iterations

Prototyping possible assaults, I
Coax my hand and feet to
Execute the code
And fail
But failing, find another possibility
The germ of innovation

Liberation

iChing fortune: “You have become too friendly with your inner demons. It's time to take them out one by one”

I know my inner demons
Perhaps a bit too well
Familiarity has bred…
No, not contempt
But resignation

They’ve scratched themselves a cozy nest
Claiming the best room in the house
Inured me to the
Raucous parties that disrupt my sleep
Pilfered my stash of
Small essential things
(Toothpaste, bandages and soap,
Contentment, self-respect)
Dodged the basic chore of
Taking out the trash

When bored, they entertain themselves by
Poking through my closets
Hauling out embarrassments I’d
Stashed deep in the back, intending to discard

Examine ancient photos, scrapbooks, yearbooks
Laugh hysterically at images
Documenting slow and painful growth
Youthful experiments
--and note I haven’t changed

These uninvited guests have long o’er-stayed their time
Trashed the house
Devalued property
Pissed off the housemates who endure my moods
Why don’t I just insist that
They decamp?
Heave their sorry asses out
Into the night?

It may be I secretly believe that
They hold valid title to the space they’ve claimed

I need an advocate to serve them notice
Terminate their stay
A champion with utter faith that I deserve
My peace, my solitude
A little bit of healthy self-regard

I’d post a notice for this opening
Trusting to receive (in this economy) an avalanche of applications
Even for a job as odd as this

Except, alas deep down I recognize
I have to conquer my own doubt
I’m the one who let the demons in and
Only I can boot them out

Theory and Practice

Given you are fast, where I am slow
And hard, where I am soft
And steely in resolve, where I am insecure
Given what you have, and what I lack

It may be, sometimes,
That there are moves, habitual for you,
That simply do not fit
My hand, my mind, my knack

Conversely
If the universe sees fit to grant
An act or two that spring, unbidden to my hand
And work
Who am I to peer inside the horse’s mouth?

Perhaps not all instruction can be
Strictly by the book
There need be room for variation
Idiosyncratic quirks
Standard deviation

I promise: I will earnestly audition all that you suggest
But in the end, can we agree, whatever scores consistently is best?

Creativity

Once the basics
Sink
Into the bone, the nerve
Enmuscled memory
Percolate beneath the skin

Once the lunge is
Automatic
Parries auto-load into
The proper line
Ripostes self-detonate
Incognizant but
Deadly

At last
One day
One bout
One moment left unplanned and
Foosh
Ignition

Improvisation
Commandeers my blade
Highjacks my hand
A sequence that I never learned
Explodes, a
Leap surpassing practice
A clever commentary on the
Act

Spooked by my startled
Exultation
The moment flees
I’m left
Bereft
Armed only with
Convention

But deep inside, a hollow’s left behind
A puddled imprint, waiting to refill
When drought lifts and inspiration storms…

Covering

Sternly told to stay aloft
Stay back, stay put, stay
Still, the shoulder rolls,
The hand sneaks down…
The yellow card comes out

Despite my firm intent to
Lock your gaze as I drop down
My head turns turtle & I
Lead with my thick skull instead of
Tender nose

Atavistic instincts of defense
Deeply embedded in
The neural net:
Protect the face, the belly button
Family jewels

I try to reassure my fragile parts that
All is safe, that
They can trust the jacket
Plastron, chest protector
Mask

But lack a certain
Credibility
(Evidence my stash of
Wraps, pads, braces
Bandages and tape)

So now and then they elect to deploy
Extreme defense against the
Maniacs hell bent to chase them
Down the strip
And off

They don’t give a damn for penalties, alas
So whack away! Perhaps a bruise or two will prod them to obey

S Curve

I loved the
Intoxicating rush
Tumbling up the slope of progress
Burning through the letters
E, D, C
Powered by the dregs of
Youthful competence

And now…
Molasses

Each next step--
Asymptotic effort
Each teeny victory--
10x the preparation

Plot my progress:
Time at the gym, number of practice bouts…
Results at competition
Does this flattened arc
Forecast the future?
Have I banged up hard against my
Innate limitations?

My improvements come in
Geologic time
While I am faced
With biologic deadlines

I fear
No matter how I hone the knife edge
Of my skills
I’m doomed to never be the
Sharpest in the drawer
Seeking enlightenment, I’m
Simply a dim bulb when it comes to
Strategy

Can I bifurcate my mind—
Be content
Accepting life as
Perfect as it is
Even as I push myself to
Higher altitudes
However short of breath?

Now might be the time to cultivate a willful ignorance
Of calculus, of probability, of trends

And be the sort of blessed, idiotic optimist beloved of the gods

Misdirection

Little shards of pain
A muscle tweaked
A throbbing thumb
Even a wrinkle in the sock

Count my breath
Hum a silly tune inside my mask
Working up the scale of Fibonacci until
I lose count

When it works
Flick lands, light as feather’s touch upon your back
Parry 2 riposte, upon the very edge of your lamé
My long coupe attack completes, unmindful of your squirm

Anything to wave a shiny object

At the corner of attention

Sometimes it’s enough to

Break the hold of

Tyrant mind

Given that I cannot think and do at the same time

Nutrition

Know what’s really tempting?
Just to hit
Like Godiva chocolate
Strawberries
Champagne
Illicit pleasures
Endorphin hits doled out like
Peanut M&Ms
Red, green, brown, blue
One for every touch

Problem is,
These tasty treats will
Make you fat, complacent
Wire you with operant rewards to just
Repeat, repeat, repeat
Drilled into a trite robotic rut

A better diet has you
Fasting
Eating crow
Swallowing the bitter disappointment of
A lost bout
Loss of face
Letting others feast
Harvesting their touches as you
Discipline yourself to practice moves that will
Ripen months hence
Even years

So, use common sense
In balancing your fencing meals
Curb your gluttony
Take a bit of that, a bit of this
Even things you do not like
(Attacking into six)
But save room for dessert

Beginnings

Listen to the coach
Eyes and ear-tips lasered on his every word
Even if you do not understand them
Yet

Safety first
Even blunt, your weapon is a weapon
No pointing it at faces bare of any mask!
Tip down

Always do your best
Even if you cannot make it work
All that’s asked is earnest effort
Try

Play nice
If you lose your temper, turn and walk away
Never never never strike to hurt
Behave

Remember why you’re here
What a joy to stand upon the strip!
Battling with mind with hand with blade against a worthy foe
Have fun

And Badger says:
Help yourself to cookies, after your last bout
Now, en guarde

Linguistics

A step…is like a word

And like a word
Has endless shades of meaning,
Intonation,
And intent

It could be…

Sneaky, nonchalantly closing distance
As you prepare to strike

Teasing, daring me to think that
I can make my move

Slippery, making me
O’er shoot

Deadly,
As you segue to your lunge

So, you step
And I attend
Decoding which of all of these it signifies
Composing my reply

Whoops! Too late…
I’d better learn to speed up my translation

Muscle Memory

Encoded in the grain
By dint of endless repetition

The difference between
     Theory and practice
     Thought and execution

If I could do this thirty years ago—
The actions live within me still, correct?
Hidden by disuse
Atrophied, but waiting to awake
(If my aging body can support the strain)

Clumsily I mimic my much younger self
Working from imperfect recollection
Seeking some detail--
     Sound of blade on blade
     Scent of sweat and leather
A shock that will reverse the flow of time
Evoke the nerves’ potential

If the theory’s sound
If I’m not so changed by growth, experience and time
That what worked then is ill-fitting now
If so, what then?

Time to write new memories
Scrape the palimpsest and start again…

Kaizen (改 善—Small Improvements)

Little steps, balanced forth
And back, keeping options open
Ready to explode

Feint and run away
Teasing you to push and charge
Hah! Counterattack

You can push, and push
Good! I pull distance, beat, deceive
Parry and riposte

You make touch against
Now I know what you will do
Here—try it again…

Incremental change
Subtle transformation, not
Metamorphosis

I can live with that--
Each instar a bit improved
It will be enough

A Night's Work

Drive home late, traffic lights on blink
Beckoning me through abandoned intersections
As if the road exists solely for me
(An open invitation for excessive speed)
Hot damp breeze dipping through the open roof
All my restless energy dispersed in sweat and laughter
Companionship and competition
The ego lulled by adrenaline, exhaustion
A touch of satisfaction
Memories of one well-balanced act
Taking of the proper moment
Arm and purpose firm, focused gaze
A joyous lunge with not one ounce held back

And now, for a few hours of the night, I have peace

Obsession

It’s an addiction
I admit
To what…well, that’s a harder question

As Skinner boxes go, it would seem
Immensely inefficient
Random reinforcement
Few and far between
Occasional touches, sporadic runs of competence
A transitory flush of pride

Clearly I need only minor treats to fuel
This stubborn dedication
This (more than) slight imbalance
   - adrenaline
   - ambition
   - a little bit of pain
Enough frustration to make me hunger for another chance

This sport, this hobby, pastime, entertainment (!)
Pushes all my buttons
Taps my fundamental traits
Conviction that perfection can be reached, the only cost
Relentless dedication
A minor loosening of sanity
Nothing too extreme

Deep down, I’m wired to believe
That me, this I
Is able to succeed at anything I try
Despite the massive evidence that contradicts
And so I come back time and time again
Impelled by evolutionary forces to return
And face my limitations

Deep down, I secretly suspect that if
A miracle occurred and
Grace and speed, precision, clever strategy
Descended on my blade, settled in my limbs, that if
I suddenly swept all before me
Small, fierce, clever, brave
Unstoppable
This laser focus on my goal would blur, diffuse
And I would be released
Cage sprung, trial ended
Experiment complete

Failing that, about all I can hope for is
A balance of more treats than shocks in this research
On training of the soul
Excuse me while I push this lever one more time…