Author Archives: Ken Greenman

Lightning, far off, which dimly illuminates gray clouds and mist, heard ten Mississippis later is not to be feared. It is the jagged streak electric, the immediate rumbling roar, the dimming light by the chair. That is the damaging demon … Continue reading →

The white moth caught between the screen and casement window twirled upside down, flung himself toward his world but was blocked by an inscrutable glass pane. Beyond the glass was thunder, lightning, drenching rain, one drop would drown him were … Continue reading →

As for me, I would avoid the dark stretches of the night, where gremlins, anxiety and ghouls slither from beneath my bed to invade their annex in my head where all that is left for me is xanax and the … Continue reading →

My neighbor has a seven year old daughter, all big blue eyes, long blonde braids, a brain built for slaughter. While raking my yard this morning, I looked up in time to see her kill a baby rabbit with her … Continue reading →

If I just hold your hand and walk along beside you, I hear the lovely melody of stars, while certainty, like fireflies blazing in the night, illuminates our pathway with its light.

When we see no end to the diminishment, the final scene stretching on and on, for what else are we forgiven to pray, than for strength to manufacture a conclusion, a self-inflicted period to end our sentence. The punctuation of … Continue reading →

How the heart holds old hurts, remembers the last kiss on his forehead, the final farewell. Dads ashes, poured off the old diving rock where he taught me, where he caught me in his arms, disolving in the sea. Even … Continue reading →

Who taught the black capped chickadee to eat the sunflower seed? To peck along the gray stripped shell, extract the meal, to munch it well? How did the first one learn that trick , then pass it on to her … Continue reading →

If only we had never sinned so I might, as Adam before the apple, say, “Morning, Father! How are you today?” And hear Him answer, not “Have you considered my servant, Job?” or, “Saul! Saul! Why are you persecuting Me?” … Continue reading →

Secret saints surround us, hidden well among the human camo concealing them. Among wet backs harvesting grapes. Dodging traffic on city streets. Sitting in silent solitude in a nursing home. Rocking on a Savannah porch, wreathed in wisteria. At sea, … Continue reading →