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Author Archives: Ken Greenman
66 – THIS TIME AROUND
we talked, easy, those first nights fitting keys to locks finding we were once twins, lovers one time perhaps the time after that. No paved paths, no footprints where we strolled before, rather impressions in time. but, when one key … Continue reading
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65 – MY SOUL’S A SECRET DANCER
on silent street strolls my soul’s volume control explodes! glorious rackets, doves whistling flutter tabby cat tip toes startle my heart. Joy pirouettes in me surprise slides cross sidewalks arms stretching, hands reaching while two old hand holders sighing on … Continue reading
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64 – PICTURES ON MY DRESSER
In January, many. In June, a few. In December, two. On Valentine’s, There was, at last, Just you!!!
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63 – LETTERS
If reading your words on paper wore off the ink like sitting on shingles while I’m roofing wears holes in my pants, the way my big toe wears a hole in my sock the way I walk wears away the … Continue reading
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62 – PREPPED
What we feel comes long before what we understand. Turmoil in our loins comes early as hints, whispers, faints into the physical long before the forays into reality. A doctors therapy for sores beneath my foreskin sent me, at twelve, … Continue reading
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61 – FACTS OF LIFE
Got my first and only Sex… Lecture from my mother. I was six. {Two dogs on the street. I didn’t understand} “Mom…?” “What? -oh- that. Grown-ups do it too.” {that was one hell of a shock!} Then, “Well, don’t worry.” … Continue reading
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60 – DINNER
The meat lay flat and limpid on the kitchen counter top as we talked about which receipt, unscrewed the cork until it popped. Then I used the wooden hammer, beat the meat ’till it was tender while you heated up … Continue reading
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59 – COLD FEET
Last night, late, well, early morning, something happened that I hate. My lady got cold feet. Icy toes heels froze… And my legs are warm under the quilt. So, of course, {Opposites attracting opposites she knows the best spots} From … Continue reading
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58 ON POPEING AND FUCKING
I If a man’s not a Pope before white smoke pours though St. Peters chimney, then no matter the number of Cardinals proclaiming, he is not. But the man who is marked by God’s finger may crawl through all the … Continue reading
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57 – SUMMERS TIME
Today, I am a willing addict to summers gentle narcotic to warm breeze, hot sun, fans hum. Emerald hummingbirds darting, penetrating willing impatiens, clematis blue heron slow stroking wings glides down the slopes, cool river inviting. Tonight, blinds drawn, sheets … Continue reading
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