Entourage

I’d love to be a solitary,
Independent beast
Kipling’s cat, walking (fencing) by herself
But honesty compels me to admit…

I do better with a retinue

A minor posse: one, or two, or three
Whom I know will get my
Little fencing jokes
(Displacement to the side
Point-in-line
The badger dance of victory)

Not giving me advice
Dictating actions, strategy or time
No puppet masters
Fencing in my stead

Just a friendly voice to nudge me when I flag
Bright with confidence that
I can do
That can be enough to
Give the little lift I need to
Boost me o’er the hump

So come and watch and yell, shout out,
Stomp and clap and cheer
And I will gladly do the same for you. Hey-la!

Appreciation (Poem for Barbara)

Hair white
Limbs bare of excess flesh
Crinkle at the eye’s fold
Accumulated years
And yet

You are not sweet at all

Tough, stubborn
Canny
Brave
Desiccating wit
Bearing little patience for
Fools and chatter

Dry lefty humor
Making life
As difficult as ere you can for
Supple opponents
Time and again you step up to face the
Wild and the strong
Half your age and twice your size
Resolute to
Make it count

You put me to shame…
I’ve lost only bits and pieces
You’ve shed
Wholesale chunks
Spliced together
Partially intact
You persevere
Taking up the blade
As soon as you are able
(Sooner than is wise)

I can think of worse than
Emulating your determination

Age is only wisdom…sometimes
Since you’ve got the knack, stick around and share it please
With those of us who’re yet to tread the path

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

April Second

Peanut butter in the glove
Menthol in the mask
The box reset to “sabre” every time you
Glance away
An urgent message that your car’s
Been towed

Best of all—your weapons surreptitiously
Assembled with a
shorter blade

All these glorious, wicked thoughts
Maybe it’s a good thing I stayed home last night…

Vipassana (Clear Seeing)

Transitory flash
Of insight, precognition
I see your intent

***

Foot kicks forward hard
Arm hitches back, presenting
Opportunity

Into this small gap
I lunge with alacrity
Squirm, and close the line

***

Teasing you to strike
Too close for you, perfect for
Stubby badger paws

Baiting with my lunge
Drawing parry four, riposte
Hah!
My second intent…

***

Rare and precious bout—
Next time will be different
Good in its own way

But not the same…

Dukkha (Suffering)

Towards the lesson’s end
“Just five more good touches, then a break”
Hah. I know you lie

Coming out of pools
Seeded lower
Than when I went in

Called onto the strip
First bout of direct elimination
Realizing that I badly need to pee

Sprinting for relief
Then seeing that the cold and smelly jacket
Has to go back on

Exhausted, reaching for my bag
Discovering that
I forgot my lunch

Finally headed home in dark and cold
Finding the directions
Don’t work in reverse

Soaking in the tub
Beer in hand, it’s over and done
Except, except
There’s video of all my bouts…which I know you know

Bind

Smooth glide entangling your blade
Forte to foible
High line to low
Certain of
The whereabouts of blade…
Perfect move for a control freak
Like me

***

Hours spent
Leaping back and forth
Wrestling with weights
Sprinting ‘til I gasp
All to build the base endurance that I need
To dance upon the strip
But now…
I’m too sore and tired
To actually fence

***
And now my lovely bind--
Hey, what’s with this?!
You pivot round my blade
Fulcrum into 2 and then riposte
Gah! Traitorous momentum turned back against itself

***

What might seem the obvious solution
Taking
Bull by the horns
The direct route
No prisoners
Has drawbacks

Strength engenders problems of its own
Complaisance
Opposition
Countervailing force
Illusions of control

****

Better, maybe, sometimes to
Elide
Evade
Dodge and disengage
Sink to stillness
Rest, rejuvenate and

Let the right solution come
In its own time

Do Tell

Arm hitch
Off hand twitch
Shoulder tense
…Signals of offense

Exhalation
Hesitation
Blade whack
…Predicate attack

Foot stutter
Hand flutter
Sudden halt
…Prefacing assault

Ingrained moves
Well-worn grooves
Unconsciously betray
…Make you easy prey

Solution? Simple
Better execution
Hide, or better yet
…Misguide

Flip Side

Any strength
Is weakness, too
Small, fierce, stubborn
Badgerly traits that stand me in good stead when
Chips are down, my opponent 6-foot-3
And half my age

But these attributes come back to
Bite me in the bum when
The bout demands a cooler head
A slower hand
More leisured pace

Sometimes my fierce and stubborn nature sends me
Plowing down the strip
Beating on your foil
Rat-a-tat-tat machine-gun mammal
Hurling myself upon your blade
Caught up in a suicidal quest to
MAKE THE TOUCH

...breathe…
…relax…
…reset…

Let’s try this again

Gently swing into the dance of
Back and forth (using both directions, note…)
Tease and tweak and run away
Don’t be so invested in the touch that
Failure is disaster, cataclysm
Shame
Just…experiment
Give anything a try
And take delight if (by a miracle) it works
If not, then tally it as
One small piece of wisdom
Added to the store

Be a little bit less strong…
But less weak, too.
OK?

Fovea

Smack
In the center of the human eye
A blind spot

Optic disc
Where nerves combine, twine,
Launch themselves en route to
Wetware,
CPU

Seems like a major
Defect of design
Dun’nit?

Except

Focusing your gaze,
While seeing nothing at the core
Expands awareness of
Peripheries
Tangential happenings

Your best perception’s sited slightly to the side
Offset
Off base
Off-center
Alert to every movement of a foot or foil
Every twitch and feint

Thus the rule:
Don’t look at your opponent’s blade
Target on his chest, his shoulder
Belly button
Where ‘er it is that you intend to hit

A universal lesson:
We’re blind to our obsessions so
Concentrate on nonessentials
Things you cannot see
And can’t control
The vital residue will take care of itself