Author Archives: Ken Greenman

My wife made meat loaf the shape of a penis, put it, head first, into the preheated oven and when it was well done, so were we.

I’m keeping my hand around while she is away from so I won’t forget going off until she’s on and I’m in.

I have part of a photo, the only part I want. It is my wife, cut away from her ex, thirty five years ago. A finger sized sliced picture of my wife in a god awful dress. The top part’s … Continue reading →

I will lift weights, run off my buns, do sit-ups by the score, maybe even four score and seven in honor of Lincoln before he grew old enough to die so suddenly of a stopped heart. That’s how we all … Continue reading →

The biggest squirrel chases the others around the feeder, dashes down the pole to the ground, up again, around the box, until, alone, he perches on top, nibbling seed, guarding his throne, king, while oaks, maples, firs, soar above him, … Continue reading →

You can see the path, the route the deer took, if only you look. The soil is pressed, leaves are flat, twigs are broken. The little brown pebbles they leave as tokens in white snow, in green grass, in orange … Continue reading →

After years of fallings down, what if, without them, I still fall down? Ashes, ashes if I still fall down. Dust to dust if I can’t stand up.

His soul now, robed in wonder, trailing light, fueled by joy. Nothing now can weigh his back, no tears can quench his fire, no pain can hinder his motion, no stumble in his path. His soul, now free, travels.

I am dying to live! Aching for a life beyond the womb. Caring little for a life beyond the tomb, this existance full enough, once at a time. So, for now, At the edge of this storm blasted sea cliff, … Continue reading →

I am envious of the unborn, the fetus nestled in mothers womb or in the minds of little girls who only play at cribs and dollies. I am jealous of that first smack and cry. For though he may be … Continue reading →