Author Archives: Ken Greenman

The view from my pillow of her, occupies my eyes as she sleeps, nude, beside me. Her cleavage lingers – just there, draped in blue silk sheets, inviting me to lose my way in her deep and comforting valley. I … Continue reading →

He sees himself but doesn’t know himself but he knows what he sees and doesn’t like it. He sees himself, rust-breast-feathers-fluffed, blue-angry-wings-flapping… and what he sees is frightening. To defend himself against himself he attacks that self he sees mirrored … Continue reading →

I placed an old folding chair between the tree line in my back yard and the bird feeders. I sit there, waiting. The birds panicked off when I arrived, but, now, they steal their way back, a few feather flutters … Continue reading →

There is such a little space, the distance created by a thumb-tap-or-two on the space-bar——– of my key-board, between now here and no where, between knowing exactly where I am, -here- when I am where I am- -now- , and … Continue reading →

No! Not that Woodstock… and, No, not that Woodstock either…. I wasn’t at Woodstock in ’69. I was in Northern Chile, contracting amebeotic dysentery. And that other Woodstock is the cute-little-yellow-bird-friend-of-Snoopy from the imagination of Charles Schultz. My Woodstock comes … Continue reading →

God, in Heaven and on earth, all the Names You have chosen to be called are Holy. Your Kingdom is coming and is here in us, already. Your Divine-Benevolent-Will is being carried out on earth, and in our lives just … Continue reading →

At 7 this morning as she slapped at her clock, there came a delicious idea to her head: a delightful delay to the start of their day, instead of their usual crawl from their bed! Her agreeable lover -rose- to … Continue reading →

Fang and Claw! Now there’s the Law! Kindness is absurdity! In our DNA is our lust to kill! Don’t call it depravity! Slaughter’s as natural as gravity. Gentleness denies our collective will. When you witness a blood bath, Don’t hold … Continue reading →

He was retired NYPD. He got into delivering newspapers to keep busy and to add some cash to his monthly budget. I was ten, workin’ papers in my pocket, deliverin’ all the big New York City newspapers. He’d drop ’em … Continue reading →

I could lug all the papers slung over my shoulder in my big-canvas-news-paper-bag on weekdays and Saturdays But on Sunday mornings, New York City had too much to say to itself and too many newspapers to say it in, especially … Continue reading →