Author Archives: Ken Greenman

Our world is sounding louder lately, a cacophony of dissonant jazz gone crazy. Our aural capacity to distinguish the real from the rot, the truth from the not is nearly gone. (The noise has taken its toll.) What we need … Continue reading →

Shhhh!! Hissing! Which means I’m hearing what I’ve been missing! The sweet, raucus world of noises: air conditioning nearby, lawn mowing far off, children’s toys, humming birds fight, crickets, doves in flight, tree frogs, breeze… It was so muffed, I … Continue reading →

“Forgive, kind sir, my mood, my apparent, ingratitude. You must allow a little latitude. For, while I do, laud, your, longitude, I really must know: Are you nude to be lude or just rude?”

I saved a moth the other day, accidentally. He was caught in a spiders web under my grill cover. Where was he going that brought him to close to that sticky, deadly trap? Had he resigned himself to dying? Did … Continue reading →

I sit on a shaded porch, my back to a sunny yard. I see my reflection in the window. My reflection, I know, but my Fathers face. Ear lobes sagging, bald pate, his round head looking back at me. My … Continue reading →

There are days I just get in my way, when I can’t think of a right thing to say. I might do better tomorrow. Can you wait and hold on to your sorrow?

My ghost and yours will be lovers. I feel it in my bones. My heart will die the moment you leave me on that deep, dark day. Then I will be dying to die to see you, to discover if … Continue reading →

Water is calm, curative, aroused, passionate, sensual, shimmering, raging, caressing. My wife is water. In all these years, I have been baptized in her, full emersion. And through that blissful drowning life, I have been born again, dripping, drenched, renewed.

Do not be fooled by its tranquil face. This placid pond is a dangerous place. Beneath that mirrored sun kissed water, a war’s going on, a holocaust’s slaughter. Every little murmur is forensics for a murder which Nature shrouds with … Continue reading →

Is like radiance, glimmering edges of cumulus which, though slate at center now shine bright around perimeters. Gradually, a scattering of the clouds provides glorious shafts of sun lit slits in the mist. There I stand, in a pool of … Continue reading →