Author Archives: Ken Greenman

It was 1 hour and 37 minutes after noon, (I’d checked the kitchen clock.) and I was enjoying a retired mans breakfast. Then I sat in my recliner in the living room for the time it takes to eat a … Continue reading →

Just because there’s no evidence that some – Thing- exists, doesn’t mean it doesn’t. Though in our science-besotted-material-world, where we all Hope that something beyond matter – Matters, it doesn’t mean it does! Certainty, you see, is a nasty, vastly … Continue reading →

So, as I age, it seems that even in my dreams, my soul returns to those old themes of what guilt or forgiveness means to him who faces, now, from the bottom of the hour glass, that last question, that … Continue reading →

Comes the moment when you know (though no one else does, yet…) that you Could do It if you wanted to but you don’t so you can’t. When you have the energy you need to do It but all around … Continue reading →

….. a companionable slumber in your hammock with your lover in the cool of your shady back porch of an Autumn afternoon. Not a worry nor reminder of long forgotten job and duty that might have plagued you in the … Continue reading →

The halting steps… the crick in the back… the accidental doze at the desk… these are the inevitabilities, no matter the diets or regimens. We accumulate years and wipe away tears at the graves of those we love. To age, … Continue reading →

I have a quandary. I’d like to go to Heaven if I just didn’t have to die! Like ol’ Enoch and Elijah… They got a free ride to the great by ‘n by! You see, I dearly love my Wife … Continue reading →

…all you need is the will to sit silent and still on your back porch rocker until, as though by magic, a crow, scout for his murder, shows up on the weedy edge of the pond in your meadow. Cautious, … Continue reading →

Situationally, I’m situated in the one situation I am meant to be situated in… That is, with you! Or, (so’s not to end either a sentence or a line of poetry – with a preposition, ie: “in”, I’ll edit the … Continue reading →

… and out there, among the reaches of infinity, float skin-flakes from Gods finger-tips. Drifting there since Divinity was a little child skipping stones across streams of eternity. One flake scraped off, from Her pinky, perhaps, on the rough edges … Continue reading →