Author Archives: Ken Greenman

The blue jay crashed onto the branch from the tip of his beak to the claws of his feet. On a twig of that branch perched a chickadee chirping her song to some Immensity. To my delight, she held to … Continue reading →

Twice blessed was I this morning to see a Cardinal esconsed in a maple tree. Twiced blessed was I by first, to see and then to poem that memory.

Across Hells Gate squats Marble Hill. Manhattans bow glides to a stop. Mans energy having run its course hangs on great cliffs, mammouth stone palistades, immutable, stolid, solid in the face of universal solvent tides as they were before the … Continue reading →

When does day begin? It isn’t, it isn’t, isn’t Is. Natures reostat turns slowly on a Winter dawn. I shiver in the chill. A bitter breeze. Icy suns first glimmer reflected on a snow dot caught in an oaks bark. … Continue reading →

Delight are you to me! My dot in time with you alloyed with nothing but joy and cheer like diamonds dappled on my way. I am old, but wise, own no deed in the land of fools who toss their … Continue reading →

You, owner of my heart, you, sharer of our world. Your signature on my soul established loving provenance these many years ago. You, through joy, pain, full and empty days stayed. Now, in the Winter of Our Year, to you, … Continue reading →

The voyage must end. This is iron. The when is shrouded in mist. The moment is not of our knowing. The how can be ours to face. I wish my journey to cease at sea. I will float lightly across … Continue reading →

The flame that melts the ore creates the steels strength. The heat that breaks the irons core shapes the rapier. The gods create the wild storm driving us to the reef. Then they foment the swirling wave which tosses us … Continue reading →

We age strange, the older,the younger. At last we are childrens children. Then reverse return, womb bound egg to mother. Then as seed fertilized, we begin again.

The Buddah is not so strong in me to see a sequel as so sorrowful. I have not suffered such to not desire a second or seventh sojourn on the ever spinning circle. There have been Springs, laughs, certain victories … Continue reading →