Author Archives: Ken Greenman

Even dou da’ ‘gator’s been gone for weeks, now, from dat point on the pond where he warmed his-self in the sunshine, in the company of a half dozen black-mud-covered box turtles and one mean, nasty snapper, like some scene … Continue reading →

My Irish Grandsire was a sailor. Spent his years on the seas. Telling tales, he once told me if Captain Smith, Master of Titanic had done nothing but hit the iceberg straight on, his ship could have limped back to … Continue reading →

The winning driver, after 100,000 passes past 1,000,000 roaring fans in the stands, SPEEDS HOME VICTORIOUS!!! And the world explodes! Screams its approval!! The driver, pumping his fist to accentuate his victory. The spectators on the drivers side see his … Continue reading →

On this first Autumn day, I sit on my back porch watching leaves and pine needles fall into the pond. (In truth, they have been coming down for three weeks now, what with the hurricane and one misnamed “tropical storm … Continue reading →

“Just because he’s your husband, doesn’t mean he’s wrong. He was right about you, right?” As I was about you, with your scent, Youth Dew, behind your ears and between your thighs and your taste for kippered snacks and the … Continue reading →

It’s out of fashion. So I hear. A ceiling with pits and crags like a stoney beach where you have to wear your old sneakers to go down in the water. “Passe’, “ they say. Most new buyers willing to … Continue reading →

WARNING!!! THIS IS A LONG ONE!!!) The little town where I grew up had its own library. Sort of. But it wasn’t a Public Library. That edifice of communal culture was 6 miles away, in the next bigger town and … Continue reading →

I met a girl on the hiking trail. She had a heart like apple pie. She smiled at me and I smiled at her and we’ve never said good bye! To say hello is always fine though most farewells are … Continue reading →

Gods face is revealed, as dawn comes to the pond. All last night, noises came, as hints. A hungry screech owl, hunting and the scream of the hare, too slow. The frogs and peepers in oratorio. A grumbling something… the … Continue reading →

…since yesterday morning when I discovered I have old man’s hands. Skin like old parchment. Blood thinner hands, purple, blue and black bruises smudging the backs of my hands. The skin of my fore-arms wrinkled, crinkled like aged tobacco draping … Continue reading →