Master K’s Karate, 1990
︎︎︎ Sean Kilpatrick
︎ Dec 2, 2025
When will you deserve the probity of your scars,
Master K swaggered, perlustrating us by row.
Sounds like a faggot’s laugh track in here!
We kiai’d what he deemed
‘shabbily reconnoitered paludal elucubrations.’
My dogi was pronged, chafed from my frame.
You been bushwhacked by your chemistry set!
I wept through a solo adaptation of leapfrog
meant to entrench one’s core.
Go hump a can of Creatine instead!
His dojo functioned as a covert halidom for mildew.
We pantomimed katas, a circuitous
mummery of blocks and parries. Reticular valances
were fisted a fraction from my nose,
intake an annealment of the diaphoresis off his knuckle.
I remained in formation. Done ogling popguns at the hobby shop,
he caroled into my quailing scraps. Crane, snake, monkey, dragon,
legerdemain of the dweeb intervened
by choreography from a Prince video
and transmuting that ensemble’s shaboogie as self-defense!
Is this a close quarters priority omphalos
bread-basketed beyond gravidity?
You move like a walrus fucking a guardrail.
He’s voguing through his pressure points.
Still keening? Use the handkerchief in your speedo.
Kiken! Yame! His horseshoe moustache was scorched with coke.
I had war games to administrate, rubble to live under.
The Urkel voice lurking after me from provenances abroad,
ensconced by others to my skin, ceased.
A leviathan was o-goshi’d over his own portliness.
An epicene colleague flailed against me
and I herded my metacarpus into the hominy of his head,
extravasating him across the school parking lot
till a transected miotic barm
got punctiliously yo momma’d.
Master K swaggered, perlustrating us by row.
Sounds like a faggot’s laugh track in here!
We kiai’d what he deemed
‘shabbily reconnoitered paludal elucubrations.’
My dogi was pronged, chafed from my frame.
You been bushwhacked by your chemistry set!
I wept through a solo adaptation of leapfrog
meant to entrench one’s core.
Go hump a can of Creatine instead!
His dojo functioned as a covert halidom for mildew.
We pantomimed katas, a circuitous
mummery of blocks and parries. Reticular valances
were fisted a fraction from my nose,
intake an annealment of the diaphoresis off his knuckle.
I remained in formation. Done ogling popguns at the hobby shop,
he caroled into my quailing scraps. Crane, snake, monkey, dragon,
legerdemain of the dweeb intervened
by choreography from a Prince video
and transmuting that ensemble’s shaboogie as self-defense!
Is this a close quarters priority omphalos
bread-basketed beyond gravidity?
You move like a walrus fucking a guardrail.
He’s voguing through his pressure points.
Still keening? Use the handkerchief in your speedo.
Kiken! Yame! His horseshoe moustache was scorched with coke.
I had war games to administrate, rubble to live under.
The Urkel voice lurking after me from provenances abroad,
ensconced by others to my skin, ceased.
A leviathan was o-goshi’d over his own portliness.
An epicene colleague flailed against me
and I herded my metacarpus into the hominy of his head,
extravasating him across the school parking lot
till a transected miotic barm
got punctiliously yo momma’d.
Sean Kilpatrick is a writer from Detroit.