Author Archives: Ken Greenman

I can’t get my inside out of you. I’ve been upside down since I saw you. You’re always so right side up, so right side up. Your bottom is never on top. You never fall down, never! Yet now I … Continue reading →

How important to pith this frog, insert the probe, scramble the brain, electrocute the moist, silky skin of its green, brown, yellow body, watch its eyes bubble, watch its legs stretch, contract, stretch, contract on its electric rack, feel the … Continue reading →

I wash dishes well, or good, as in morally correct. I do not believe in air drying. Air drying washed dishes is passive aggressive cleanliness, leaving the remains of the job for someone else to arrange in the dish cabinet, … Continue reading →

Someone is dead. I know because the auctioneer, in babbling auctionese, is ridding the stuff once filling the deceased’s life For box lots of locks and hinges. saws-alls, picture frames, china dolls, frilly lace, tea cups and plates, “La Moge!”, … Continue reading →

Nothing is relative about relatives. On the inside there resides the deep, genetic goo which makes you, you. A King like Grandpa Mike. A Jester like Cousin John. Even your daughters slutty sister, sports a lip ring, fights like a … Continue reading →

I love the calm after the storm, the gentle morn in contrast to the thundered, lightninged chaos of the night before. The problem with that? I need the storm with all its terror, all its fright so I can have … Continue reading →

Mothers edges: Queen Annes lace, brown eyed Susans, bunny nose, lupins. A twenty foot wide swath slaughtered on the borders made of concrete and tar. Why must we be so tidy? Why must we truck in the mighty tractors and … Continue reading →

The intrepid paleoanthropologists, physiologists and philosophers were unanimous in their findings related to the bone structures of the ancient, extinct inhabitants of a small, primarily watery planet on the edge of the Milky Way, a brief stopover on their interstellar … Continue reading →

My desk, pen and paper scratch an itch in my brain. Horney muses initiate unexpected passions in my head, orgasmic, semantic flow, seminal impregnation followed, by the labored birth of an idea, pure content, not yet formed, a yell not … Continue reading →

There is a veil, pale thing, gossamer and corn silk, woven by Others into the concrete air we breathe. If we are reckless, or blessed, we might meander through, feeling only the tender touch of some floating web across our … Continue reading →