Author Archives: Ken Greenman

The taking down of party tents graduation tents wedding tents tents in the wilds tents in the back yards rolling them up into bundles not forgetting stakes, spikes, ropes. This is the task of spirit strike. The ceremonies soul is … Continue reading →

Trees, forests fingers eclectic formation in uniform adulation point to sky and in the breezy silence sigh, “God.”

Such a golden child Sat on shining surf-side sand and giggled as the foaming waves glistened through her hand Such a golden thimble She clutched with nimble grip And with a childs ferocity Helped the ocean soak the land A … Continue reading →

in woods, windy whispers, soft whistles, she, reminding us we have forgotten “the body has a soul” “the body has a soul” “the body has a soul” comes back to that each time we flatten a hill culvert a stream … Continue reading →

That’s not the sun out there burning ball of fire and gas with eons and eons and eons beyond. That’s a rip in the fabric, a peep hole through the black burlap bag. Glory and holy fire blasting from Gods … Continue reading →

God hiked the woods cutting his own trail ’till he found a likely spot to pitch his tent. He cleared away Dead Branches, rocks, trash left by others not so conscientious. He built his fire to warm the site and … Continue reading →

Jesus played Jewish Jazz while the shofar called the faithful but what do you do with clumsy feet and you can’t feel the beat, the old horns blaring in the background so, they came intriguing: “His melody’s awkward.” “I can’t … Continue reading →

in the midst of mist spirits marshal for evening enterprise when fogs rise, lacey ghosts conjure magic in mundane moments, frolic here in the valley Souls shimmer among us we thought long gone in clouded moon night they gather, do … Continue reading →

if God was my child I’d bring her to the five and dime store Just to see what she would buy. I’d give her a dollar. She’d race to the counter where the crayons, acrylics and clay are. Then, on … Continue reading →

Last evening, unhinged hounds howled, sniffed the scent of an ascending soul, shucked of flesh, rising now, silver wraith in twilight. Weightless airy returning, marked only by a knowing, deeper, beyond my ken, but not the hounds, not the moths … Continue reading →