Galahad

The angel of the Holy Grail
Saw Galahad come riding
So he took the Holy Grail off the shelf.

And inside the holy chapel made for
Holy Grail hiding the angel
Could be seen to smile to himself.

“If you’re the great Sir Galahad
From now on,” said the angel
“May all angels call me blessed of my race.”

“If you’re not the great Sir Galahad
I’ll warn you, keep on riding and if you are
I pray you’ll let me see your face.”

Galahad took off his helmet, said
“Good angel look upon me.
Fear not, for I bring tidings of great joy.

For long years the grail you’ve guarded, now
You get to let me drink it, how
Happy must be angels thus employed.”

“All the favors you shower upon
Me, a simple angel,” said the
Angel, “your magnificence abounds.

Take your boots off great Sir Galahad,
For by your astounding beauty whatever
Ground you stand on turns to holy ground.”

Galahad took off his boots, and he
Watched the ground quite closely
And the angel smiled to himself again.

He said, “I can’t believe I’m asking, but
Sir Galahad please tell me, what is
It that makes you want to go to heaven?

In heaven there’s no lamb chops,
Queen Guinevere’s for hand jobs,
Marijuana, Kenny Rogers, or Ecstasy.

No pillaging, no rape, perhaps
you’ve come by some mistake to me
this seems more error than knight errantry.

Yes, and what about the stable boys,
I know you think they’re handsome
and some of them, they think you’re awful handsome too.

And, sitting up in heaven, you’ll still
think about them often, when you’re an
angel thinking’s all that you can do.”

At this, Sir Galahad got angry,
“Angel,” he said, “don’t you tempt me.
I wish to go to heaven and not to hell.

So when stable boys look lonesome,
When the women call me handsome,
I’ll hold me virtue very firmly by myself.”

“I guarantee you’ll hold it often,”
said the angel. “Oh one more thing, before you
drink the wine, please take your armor off.

I gotta carry you to heaven,
And despite what you’d imagine,
I have trouble bearing heavy things aloft.”

Sir Galahad stood naked
In a pile of his armor,
His boots and helmet scattered all around.

His perfect lips, they sipped the grail,
His perfect heart commenced to fail,
His perfect body fell upon the ground.

The angel lit a cigarette.
When he was sure Galahad was dead,
He picked all of his clothes up off the floor.

Then I put on his boots and armor
I laid his body on the altar
Put his helmet on and I headed for the door.

Eyesight

It was May before my
attention came
to spring and

my word I said
to the southern slopes
I’ve

missed it, it
came and went before
I got right to see:

don’t worry, said the mountain,
try the later northern slopes
or if

you can climb, climb
into spring: but
said the mountain

it’s not that way
with all things, some
that go are gone

On Prayer
-Czeslaw Milosz

You ask me how to pray to someone who is not.
All i know is that prayer constructs a velvet bridge
and walking it we are aloft, as on a springboard,
above landscapes the color of ripe gold
transformed by a magic stopping of the sun.
That bridge leads to the shore of Reversal
where everything is just the opposite and the word is
unveils a meaning we hardly envisioned.
Notice: i say we; there, every one, separately,
feels compassion for others entangled in the flesh
and knows that if there is no other shore
we will walk that aerial bridge all the same.

Today is Friday, January 15, and I am officially halfway through the school year here. For the record, this is not some kind of reflection essay on my time there so far. It is a list of things to remember about the day. And it begins last night:
After a frantic and stressful afternoon of trying to get my students’ grades organized, I sat down at the computer and checked on the penguins game. It had just started (a late night game in edmonton) and I wouldn’t get to see all of it. My bedtime this winter has hovered around 9:30. Honestly. I remember falling asleep at 8 once or twice.
Anyway, the real point of this all is that, for the first time in a long time, I broke the rules. It was a slow persuasion that did it, but I was eventually completely invested in this hockey game, streamed through pixelated graphics, stuttering and quitting every so often. I was enthralled.
The short story is I got to bed finally at around 1AM, which wasn’t so bad I guess, but I knew I had an early morning the next day, which brings me to

TODAY

After a rushed wake up and shuffle out the door, I was at school, at a before school meeting and then finally at the sign-in desk having my schedule altered with extra coverages that would have me subbing in for teachers who had called in sick. This is the excitement of teaching. Even before the kids arrive the school is electric.

I made it to my room after head nodding and “mornin’”ing my way through three corridors, and with only 5 minutes until the morning bell. One student had even beat me to my room, although I’m sure he had to sneak up some secret staircase to do it.

Despite the frantic start, I was resolved to try some new things today. I had been having a load of trouble with my kids–mainly insubordination–and I was desperate for some kind of resolution. I made a pact. To stay positive (entirely positive) all day, and to stay lighthearted too. When the kids didn’t do the work, I joked with them. When they complained, I gently mimicked them. It was all trial and error, but what I was seeing was an incredible transformation. Kids who had been pains all year long were engaged. They were laughing–sometimes at me or what I was doing or saying about the class or the kid in the front row who was sleeping and whose hat I stole and put up on a hook in the front wall–and that laughter told me they were with me. It was a show I was putting on, and I never felt more like an actor.

Of course, some kids weren’t so different today. Some of them were their usual peaceful, do-nothing selves. But my class is so ridden with clowns that calming even 5 of them is a blessing. I do not expect that our next day of classes will go so well, but I do believe these students capable of using their brains, despite their typical behavior and reputation.

Maybe all it takes is pretending to slam a book onto a sleeping student’s head, and then brandishing the book like a sword, making slicing sounds and gutting up the groggy victim. That’s all it took 5th period today.

The snail gives off stillness.
The weed is blessed.
At the end of a long day
The man finds joy, the water peace.

Let all be simple. Let all stand still
Without a final direction.
That which brings you into the world
To take you away at death
Is one and the same;
The shadow long and pointy
Is its church.

At night some understand what the grass says.
The grass knows a word or two.
It is not much. It repeats the same word
Again and again, but not too loudly…

Yesterday,
it was the exhaust of this tired green
pickup, the two passengers
old friends. If ever there was a time,
I said, this is it.

Today I woke in the dark to tracks in the snow
and woodsmoke,
rising.

he was small not ready yet
frantic
under the hedge
I caught him took him home
my father wasn’t sure
wild birds he said
we’ve tried so many times
but he ate
what we made for him
and in three days
could fly
around the living room
it’s time my father said
you have to let him go

outside
he sat on my shoulder
I shook him off he flew
to a branch of the maple
perched there
silent
his little eyes
I was a child I called him
back he came
stood for a moment
on my finger
then gone
I felt the spring of his legs
all day

The distance was not a gorge or a raging river to be crossed; it was just the foggy sea of space that we had put between ourselves. Things had been hazy for a long time.

Now I’m finding clarity in cemetery walks and ice cream shops. The future is full of plans, of bright shining plans. We are all drawing blueprints, all of the time. We are all speaking softly at night, whispering almost, because these plans are secrets, and we are hushed and dying to share them.

Walking through the cemetery, you may stumble across one of mine. I forgot it there last night, left it somewhere in the matted, dewy grasses of the hillside in the dark. I won’t go back for it, though. Had you not been there, I would have never known I had it in the first place.

And for a good look behind the scenes, head over to Wordsworth. What a great place.

This my excavation and today is Kumran
Everything that happens is from now on
This is pouring rain
This is paralyzed

I keep throwing it down two-hundred at a time
It’s hard to find it when you knew it
When your money’s gone
And you’re drunk as hell

On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks are your load
In the back with your racks and you’re unstacking your load

I’ve twisting to the sun I needed to replace
The fountain in the front yard is rusted out
All my love was down
In a frozen ground

There’s a black crow sitting across from me; his wiry legs are crossed
And he’s dangling my keys he even fakes a toss
Whatever could it be
That has brought me to this loss

On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks of your load
In the back with your racks and you’re unstacking your load

This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization
It’s the sound of the unlocking and the lift away
Your love will be
Safe with me

Though he didn’t intend it, a record began spiraling into shape in those woods, and now For Emma, Forever Ago is ours to enjoy. From this winter in the woods comes the name of the band, Bon Iver, from the french for “good winter.”

Here is a man sometimes grieving, sometimes struggling, sometimes remembering the sweetest of things.
Here is a man who feels it.

Skinny Love

Come on skinny love just last the year
Pour a little salt, we were never here
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

I tell my love to wreck it all
Cut out all the ropes and let me fall
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Right in this moment this order’s tall

I told you to be patient
I told you to be fine
And I told you to be balanced
And I told you to be kind

In the morning I’ll be with you
But it will be a different kind
I’ll be holding all the tickets
And you’ll be owning all the fines

Come on skinny love what happened here
We suckled on the hope in lite brassieres
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Sullen load is full, so slow on the split

And I told you to be patient
And I told you to be fine
And I told you to be balanced
And I told you to be kind

And now all your love is wasted
And who the hell was I?
I’m breaking at the bridges
And at the end of all your lines

Who will love you?
Who will fight?
Who will fall far behind?