Fragments

Wild, tangled hair slopping over jacket’s edge
Chapped skin, cracked feet, broken nails
Mortifying bruises on the hand, arm, thigh
Badges of honor
My mum would be appalled

*****
Small actions ring deep, filling up my soul:
• Snug wrap of cuff around my wrist
• Snick of plug in socket
• Settling of chin in mask
• Slap of hand on thigh

*****

When did sweat become the smell of happiness?

*****

My leg throbs, a warm and gentle ache
Reassurance—if that’s the worst, then all is well

*****

Driving home
A wordless rumination on
What worked and did not work
Water for the whetstone
Honing practice

Panhandling

Tallying accounts
Inventory of my cluttered poverty
I total up and find

I’ve got zip…a blank portfolio of skills

I accept, reluctantly,
(After many scribbled failures to recalculate my net)
         I know nothing
                    Manage nothing
                           Control even less
Not mind, body, soul or destination

An empty purse, indeed

And so I wait for charity
A simple dispensation that
Costs nothing, empties no one else’s pocket
Because I cannot purchase, earn, demand or wrestle from the world
Enough to meet my basic needs:

Insight, patience and perception
          Ability to act on what I see
                      The loosening of fear, unleashing humor, licensing it to bloom
          The trust to let my intuition guide my hand
Uncomplicated, priceless qualities that elude my grasp

Meanwhile, I’m not exactly unemployed
I put in my time
Faithful practice, dedicated work
Even while I know
They barely pay the rent
They won’t lift me higher up on Maslow’s scale

So here I sit
Cross-legged
Hands resting loosely on my knees
Palms up, open in petition
Letting go of expectations

It may be some time

Dead Last

Someone has to be there
Anchoring the bottom of the list
The benthic depth against which
Others mark their prowess

But for it to be me!

My pride wilts
I sink into my cold and smelly sweats
Flip the hood up on my jacket
Slink from the soprano gaggle clustered at the board
Hope to be unnoticed and unknown

My ego, valiant even in retreat
Advances explanations:
“I was working on my form
In disciplined and lofty disregard
Of mere results”

Hah

The video, unversed in social graces,
coldly offers up the stark
Uncompromising truth

I stink

The adjectives abound
Where I seek grace, power
Confidence and clever phrase
The cold screen offers:
Panicked, awkward, slow
Flat-footed, dazed and overmatched
Ever one full beat behind

Packing up my fancy blades
Lovely in their simple, focused forms
(Designed to do one thing, and do it well)
Apologizing for the shame I bring to them
That would be brave, victorious and proud
In better hands
A small and timid thought intrudes
Somehow making itself heard
Amid the clamorous reproach
The vivid replayed scenes of
Every touch against

“Wasn’t it,”
It whispers
“Damn fun, despite the damage to our pride?”

I pause and contemplate my glove,
Sweaty and misshapen
Curled as it if still clutched at the grip
Calculating, counting up the days,
‘Til I can try again

In(ter)dependence

A solitary human—so such thing
We exist as nodes where interactions intersect
Friends, teachers, lovers, rivals, foes
By their proximity attract, repel
Change our valence
Sometimes intermesh
Become a fluid part of who we are

Independence is a myth
A fear of perturbation
Of interplay with forces that
Can shift our orbit
Disrupt our steady state
Collide and scatter particles illuminating
Our true identity

Trust your inner nature
Its gravity and mass
Are stable attributes
Encoding all the best of the real “I”
Trade the false strength of autonomy for
Adamantine weave of I and thou, he and she
You hazard what? The loss of fictive self, but gain the world…

Table of Equivalents

½ hour morning yoga = soy milk in my coffee
¾ hour gym at lunch break = 6 dark chocolate coated espresso beans
100 lunges = 10 half-salt almonds (Trader Joe’s—the best!)
1 hour practice = 1 cookie
3 hour weeknight practice = grilled cheese at midnight
4 hour weekend practice = 1 extra breakfast pancake and a Luna bar at break
1 perfect weeks’ attendance (yoga, gym and practice) = beer on Friday night

A Catalog of Sins (Western Canon)

Anger
My toenail,
Blackened when I kicked the floor
Seven weeks ago,
Drops off

Pride
I cannot have lost
You are not even rated…
I have earned my ‘C’!

Greed
A tangled pile
Of gold, bronze, silver, ribbons…
I try not to look

Envy
You fence so well against
The one who conquered me!
Outside, I cheer. Inside, I burn.

Lust
As the night winds down
All the lovely torsos bared
Uniforms are shed

Sloth
Easy touches are
Like icing in the bowl. Must
I eat my veggies?

Gluttony
It was too much fun!
I fenced late into the night
Now my foot rebels

Fur, Foil, Friends

Bears are warm and witty
Wise and good companions
They speak with clarity and grace
About the painful truths that haunt us all
And with their words help put the world to right
Once roused, they are a fearsome foe
But settle soon, and are prepared to hug
And offer paws of peace
To smaller mammals

Badger is quite pleased
To have a Bear as friend

Waiting Game

My half unfocused gaze
Rests lightly on your chest
My only task to breathe, relax and wait
While wrapping your attention in my
Dance of back and forth, of glide and bounce

There is no deadline to be met
No urgency to force the meeting of our blades
This is a challenge match of patience
A race to be the last to launch an act
In which the victor revels in defense
The vanquished victim to his own attack

In a world of options without end
Success dwells in narrowing the choice
One road is to dominate and seize control
The other, softer path to wait with open mind
Gently cultivating space that shapes opponents’ acts
Catch whatever comes and bend it to your will

The lesson taught?
Do only that which must be done

Morning After

Bag of dirty clothes
A medal in my pocket
Warmth of parting hugs

Training to Failure

A simple theory
Stress the muscles ‘til they ache, twinge, quiver, shake, protest
Can do no more
And this abuse provokes a blossoming of strength
As bundled fibers swell, group, stretch, expand
Adapting to a world in which they fail

All well and good, and tested to the max

But you apply this theory to my mind
Demanding skill and speed my intuition lacks
Dangling success one step beyond what I can do
And snatch away no matter how I try
Will it work, or does it just excoriate the soul?
The pain is real, and I can only hope
The growth is, too

Meanwhile, can you provide an icepack for my pride?