Author Archives: Ken Greenman

note the plain brown wrapper. house wren, a fat bullet with Cyranos’ beak then, note his song to her perched on the branch… seductive aria operatic! Puccini bows to his master

a great trick played on the cardinal imagine to be so stunning- then to know but one note- tic! tic! tic! and, as red is blood’s reminder, to hide, shying from all but briefest scarlet exposure

Saint Francis got it wrong or maybe he rewrote it so the brothers wouldn’t say “Frannie’ crazy!” “t’ pazzo, Franco!” Well, they did say that. But if he’d told it straight they would’ve said, “Frannie’s completely crazy! Gonzo tutti-pazzo!” For … Continue reading →

Knee deep in new snow filling feeders with thistle & seeds Thundering wings crowned his head aviary epiphany antiphonal chirpings “AVES!! AVES!!” Forgave him his sins of being the son of Pietro di Bernardone and Adam…

ordinary…ordinary…ordinary ordinary…ordin MAGIC!!! ZOOM!!! HOVER! HOVER! HOVER!! EMERALD! RUBY! EMERALD! RUBY! RUB! RU! ary… ordinary… ordinary ordi… or…

I love you because the world is round sound travels in waves sun warms the sky there is light after deaths dark night It does not do us well to delve too deeply into physics querky depths. Suffice it to … Continue reading →

The little boy dropped the marbles cats eyes, solids, golds, mutts into his glass jar, shook, spun, flipped, twirled, rattled the nerves of anyone and the deaf. “little boy! little boy!! little boy!!! won’t you be sad if your marbles … Continue reading →

The one legged runner who hopes to win by hopping wins by hoping by beginning to hop by hopping across the starting line and hoping towards the finish If he falls when hopping and keeps on hoping if not hopping, … Continue reading →

Applaud the wisdom of two locus trees who, without hocus pocus, these decided, twenty years ago, to plant themselves precisely for apart. How prophetically smart to grow to just that height so that I might, adding to perfections natural, perfections … Continue reading →

Eden is that gentle place lovers know. Gods stroll, there gates swing free, open. No words spoken, {words are foreign language, give poor reporting, twice removed from feeling} Souls don’t talk, souls know. that knowing, mother tongue Snakes dig gaps, … Continue reading →