2 poems
Notes on Kumite
Zero ○
Karate the merger of
Kara 空 meaning empty
Te 手 meaning hand—
you are sky
which means
you are bare
unarmed yet
unalarmed by
vulnerability
show me with
your eyes how
your hands
will act.
Ichi 一
From anyone's gaze
your foe should be as you are
in hall that expands
as each of you breathe
on opposite ends, distance is set
breath's length only their gaze
and your focus can compress
this space.
Ni 二
Opponent is partner.
There is rhythm not music don't think—
if this was dance there would only be
grace. Grace has no voice
in the absence of self and other.
San 三
Let go of yourself to obtain yourself.
Yon 四
This is supposed to be agonizing
let it be.
there is peace somewhere; it will not show itself
If you ask… are you aware
of what you are in?
Go 五
Ohshima sensei says,
they take skin, you take flesh
they take flesh, you take bone
they take bone, you take life.
Roku 六
To find an opening you must
be open
attack as you block—
don't ever block
there is no defense—
no reason to attack
you're in sequence
compliance is not acceptance
Nah-Nah: Trap Haibun
In vile funk, Vaseline shudders. Got trouble, dem boys watching; dey quota not gonna bonus
dem cross country. Holiday here, got tickets. Parking meter? I aint see it. Fine, charge, execute.
Not permanent but damages huh? Guilty until proven incompetent, sick with this.
Sic mastiff, guarantee me stiff. Guaranteed life insurance, ninety-eight dollars a month,
four weeks behind on payment, two-dollar interest got me tripping. Brake on busy-busy—
what the name of this street? Aint it after five? I’m not fin, I’m not finna— huh?
Pop the trunk? nah-nah, I’m just out to get some—
Air; horns blare for gold, glowing between emerald and ruby
Took tooth to clench my crown. Yo mans aint riding shotty. nah-nah, We Cadillac DeVille: seats
nimbus, Black Ice Tree necklace, hood:king mattress, chrome got charm, rims got ribs,
car cleaner than cane. Slick as dap-clasped Jackson. Clip got foliage. We eating…evening turn
morning when my locomotive come humming.
*
Coming home, the sky squints. Chopper hovers
from the corner of a building; don’t got any business with—Five Below. Five above. Limit: 25
residential. Feel an eye. Hill, throttle. Slope, coast. Sky breaks—curbside. I see tire-marked
roadkill. Light splashes on my windshield. Papers, proof, plates; we good. Grass has crunch.
nah-nah. Boots on gravel. I’m in uniform, no nametag— If I lose the polo, would I look more
residential? Slide window. The ray snares me white. I swallow a tooth and yield
my daddy’s name: papers, proof, plates. This my daddy’s car, we good?
August stains my collar, the judge gavels; three months to feel freedom.
87 regular. Twenty on three. Don’t need full, last me this week. Squeeze each ounce, clang
spout. Petroleum won’t combust outside its tank. Got somewhere to be. nah-nah, gotta be.
Jorrell Watkins hails from Virginia, is a 2020-21 Fulbright Japan Graduate Research Fellow, and alum of Hampshire College and the Iowa Writer’s Workshop. His chapbook, If Only the Sharks Would Bite, won the inaugural Desert Pavilion Chapbook Series in Poetry. Currently, he's studying Enka, poetry, and Aikido in Kansai.