Dim Mak

No quarter given to you.

Deep-rooted, a miscarry or

somebody’s miscue, trudged out

like a stab wound to the front

of a face, laden with warm sweat.

Please, hold still.  Are you ready for my new idiom?

Of all specimens, you are a blast, a lot of fun.

What if we had known then

what we clearly know now?

Our performance, so poor,

might have still traveled.

Black Belt Magazine, Martial Art, Budo International

Once in a while,

I’ll pull one or two issues out

and dog-ear the techniques worth remembering, cause

I hate my pressure points. You know all their tender places.


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