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Why adopt a pseudonym

Espouse an alt persona?

Well, why does any hopeful superbeing

Veil true self?

A nom de guerre can

Loose quotidian constraints

Lets us be stronger, braver

Funnier, more

Unconstrained

Freed from beskirted dignity

The shadow of

Professional respect

The hobble of

High heels, the

Garrote of the tie

We become our own best selves

At least the selves we’d like to be

This thing we do

This endless practice, angsting over

Every touch, each bout,

Ranks and standings

Indicators

Competitions

Bling

Viewed from sufficient distance, it’s

Absurd

Given all the time we steal from

Families, jobs, responsibilities

You know—real life—It’s

Serious, but not

Better if we cop to that

Embrace the silliness of dressing up in

Uniforms and masks

Embellish it with character that helps us

Play the part

So Tabby, Dormouse

Rabbit

Werewolf, Aardvark, Bear

Take comfort in your camouflaged serenity

Even though your lamé telegraphs your true identity

Ice Pack

Cool down

Even though the ref is wrong
Combusting now will only

Burn you

Out

Check the gauge--your

Engine’s running

Hot your temperature is

High your self-control is in the

Red

If you erupt

You’re not the only

One who will get

Singed

I know, it’s

Hard to moderate the

Flame of battle once it’s

Lit, to cultivate

Sang-froid

Maintain equanimity a glacial

Calm when

Tempers

Flare

Passion for the game is

Well and good but

Seriously, dude, just

chill

Stop and take a

Breathe a slop of

Water down the neck

Ratchet back the dial and

Cool down

Illustration from the Creator of Catatonic

Yahrzeit

I found your glove the other day

Lying in the salle

Still shaped to your hand

Looking like you

Just laid down your foil

Went to take a drink

A year ago

In Anaheim

I heard the news

Had to leave the room and walk

Trying to outpace time

And truth

Found myself beside the strip

Cheering on the guys as they teamed up to

Battle other veteran blades

Proving bravery is not sole province

Of the young

It felt funny, cheering

While I mourned

But proper

Too

This year, standing on the podium

I wished I'd brought your glove

I miss you 

Examination

Grownups 
For the most part
don't get scored

For some that offers sweet relief
From dreams of
Missed examinations
Failing marks

Me, I miss the brutal clarity of grades
Absolute or graded on the curve

Perf reviews are squishy
Carefully opaque
Supervisors squirming to avoid the
Awkward conversation 
Armored from legal redress
Unhelpfully polite

Competition proffers  
Ruthless objectivity
No fear of inflation
No entitled culture 

I win, I lose
I'm in, I'm out
I medal
Or I don't

In the end I'm slotted in a clearly numbed rank
At most, a tie

Just for a moment
Stripping off my sweated uniform
I know exactly where
In fencing GPS
I stand

With a faithful reading of my
Position, course & speed
I can 
Plot the course corrections that I need

Performance

On stage, I

Riff, I

Jive

Trip sure-footed o’er a sketchy framework stretched above

Abyss, no net

No notes

No fear

Confident in my ability

To slip, recover

Veiling minor gaffes with
Persiflage, some

Verbal slight-of-hand

Knowing that no matter how I divigate

I’ll stick the landing

Dead on time

Why not on the strip?

It’s a kindred act—Improv drawing on a

Repertoire of skills

Compiled aptitudes

Drilled until they’re

Practically innate

I need to graft my viva-voce assurance

Onto somatic challenges

Revel in an

Unrevealed solution

Trustful of my ad-lib creativity

My zombic intuition

Then perhaps my predatory dance

Liberated from its rigid choreography

Would transmogrify into unscripted creativity 

Drawing by SillyRedPanda

Composition

A wordled mass lies

Tangled on the page

Awaiting

Order

Somewhere deep inside lie

Knotty insights

Convoluted,

Mute

Thoughts

Born in

Structured linearity

Earbud into disarray

Thus

Entropy

Asserts dominion

Over its demesne

I, in quiet

Mannerly rebellion

Coax words to higher

Orbits

Nurture their potential

Energy, their

Probal density their

Weight

As they, upon collapse

Emit a tiny light to

Quantify the

World

Illustration from Shimmerzine.com

Strong Faults

I find it ironic that

With me at five foot three
Never cracked one twenty
The skinny kid
The runt

You diagnose my greatest flaw as
Over-muscling the touch

I'm obscurely pleased to muscle anything at all

From "The Balance Of Nature And Modern Conditions Of Cultivation"
by George Abbe

Idle Purpose

I can't go long

or far

Can't launch a lunge that flings me

Half-way down the strip

Can't mount an irresistible attack

Deploy an obfuscating wall 

of blade

Impervious defense

Absent all these skills

What I have left is best described as

Loitering with intent

Puttering at danger's edge

Nosing about for openings

Ready to high tail it out but every bit as ready

To step in

True, this peripheral maneuvering lacks

Flash

Is totally deficient in

Dramatic flare

But is more suited to my repertoire 

My circumscribed, specific grace

The lesson here?

When counting blessings, always keep in mind

Every limitation can become a strength, if suitably defined