Author Archives: Ken Greenman

herself in a mirror but where does her reflection begin? what does she is her? how much of this is act? how much does she play? with herself? when she comes does she check her watch? does she always have … Continue reading →

no promises, just kisses, more good-byes without hellos… That’s the way he wants his lady lovin… No questions, just embraces no locks, just open doors… but I like myself too much for that arrangement… So the kisses will stop coming … Continue reading →

Shhh… sleeping softly child beneath quiet whispers, above your place on earth you are cuddled, cradled in adoring arms… more than mothers milk awaits. you sleep in a thought from mans mind moving. Moving faster than your mothers mother ever … Continue reading →

The willow in the back yard the one I would watch from my window when the wind whooshed the branches the one I would swing from, would shout my joy from, is dead is gone the shade on the dew-soaked … Continue reading →

In a mall ART shop, by Rosemond someone… someone in blues, greens, browns, on beige canvas, mohogany framed. A face exquisite, round petite with eyes, quite innocent. Audrey Hepburn, but blue. Unreal. Too Round. Too Innocent to be forgotten. Two … Continue reading →

Shown casually, an aside, a friend once, of a friend “…her husband left her, she’s in California now, alone.” Black and white clear her stories sadness brought her tears to my eyes. She smiled too brightly in the shadow of … Continue reading →

How amazing! How frail we are our bodies so little, susceptible breakable yet we stretch for farthest star.

I reach to catch the grace remembered from the dreams embrace from the warmth of nestling my cheek on her neck and shoulder, that woman whose face I recognize as mine to catch the touch in a word to recreate … Continue reading →

Every hurt’s a hole a scoop life digs from the soul we never know the motive we can only pay the toll. A woman holds her hurting heart cradles it to her breast like the babe she bore, suckles, rocks, … Continue reading →

there is a door I open ending mornings walk to work beyond that door, a second and in both, I see my self So then two of me I see, my doubled strolls reflection mornings I ask the question “I … Continue reading →