Author Archives: Ken Greenman

The line crew and the regulars at Micky-D’s on an Friday morning, early, weave a friendly, familiar tapestry in my memory. Two state troopers and two EMT’s getting off their night shift. Contractors and a band of Mexican construction workers … Continue reading →

The Cape Fear River on her out going tide poured back into the Mid-Atlantic, the Bay a solid, gray-slate stone, dark churning water and a clouded sky soldered together along the horizon. Then a split ripped the darkness wide open … Continue reading →

My wife and I bumped into God today, at COSCO. Not a shoulder-to-shoulder-big-bang collision! We could never have survived the crash. It was more a conceptual collusion. Back in the rear section, between aisles 23 through 33 where the veggies, … Continue reading →

Induce me dear to seduce you dear and may we never feel so old as to deduce the need to reduce that deed or confuse that deed with another! For it is so conducive to changing a reclusive life to … Continue reading →

If there is no atheist in fox holes, surely it is the same in a cancer ward or emergency room. There is a waiting Divinity in the gloom mixed in with the proximity of doom who turns the unbelievers vision … Continue reading →

I woke this morning with a raspy, sore throat. No Wonder! Last night I played a few games of pick-up-full-court-basketball, shirts and skins. With five minutes to go, in the winner-take-all third game, I blocked a guys shot. He was … Continue reading →

Standing alone on a hillside, staring at midnight sky, wishing I had a place to go the moment after I die. That wishing morphs to a “hope there is”, that hoping, to a faith… and with that faith, Heavens golden … Continue reading →

The earth is full to its brim and spilling over with the Holy. Not metaphorically, rather elementally, substantively. Faith in the Holy connects the believer to the Holy in Its ubiquity. In fertile soil and pebbled stream. In the honey … Continue reading →

I don’t care what you’ve been told or what Paul Simon song you sing. Remember. When you’re really “feelin’ groovy”, a groove is a baby rut and a rut is a groove grown old.

I pray to be blessed with a sense of the Sacred deep inside of stones… with the feel of the flow of the Holy, deep in the marrow of my bones. In the lazy drift of the vulture. In the … Continue reading →