Author Archives: Ken Greenman

Nancy, my willowy wife, is a lovely, tall lady, nearly six feet when we wed. Shorter now, as am I, but not by much, and there, still, is her road, near twenty inches long, two of my hand spans, a … Continue reading →

Once Florence flooded and wrecked us in Carolina and fled the scene of her crime to plant a wet kiss on the North and East, there came the forces of fix and restoration. I’d done my bit, trimming and quartering … Continue reading →

In our “Oh! So posh!” retirement and golf plantation down here in the golden beach and surf dappled south-eastern corner of North Carolina, a new arrival of dubious origin desired an ornament for the lawn of his new house, a … Continue reading →

What a lovely hue for a sky! Startling Carolina Blue bordered by whip-cream-white cumulus, slate-gray remnants drifting away, North. (Yeah! Give them damn Yankees a taste of our medicine!) All that humidity drenching the air evaporates as if never there. … Continue reading →

During our years together, I’ve witnessed her become a richer beauty. A smoother, fuller, warmer, kinder vision, emanating, more now, from within. As time reshapes her form, my eyes grow more accustomed to her light. I begin to understand that … Continue reading →

Our grand-kids left at 5:AM. Their Momma, my step-daughter, Cara, single-mom, tough as melting nails, drove down here, a fourteen-hour jaunt from the Hudson Valley, two days ago (with a friend… 🙂 to drive them back home today. She’s got … Continue reading →

Three buddies in a locker room. We’re regulars at the gym. We’ve known each other for years. We know where the others work, whether married, how many times, what the first one did that was so terrible, the weather on … Continue reading →

I woke this morning, startled by the whimpers. I rose, stumbled to my desk to erase two poems, still-born, I’d thought, laying prone on the slab, waiting post-poem autopsy. I wondered. Perhaps a little slice here, a last minute transplant … Continue reading →

“Good afternoon, Mr. Ken! This is Sally-Jean at Dr. Vaughn’s office! The Doctor would like you to come in, early tomorrow morning – if you can. There have been some – developments…” Oh! Dear Lady! Can you know the soft … Continue reading →

who is this doppelganger the poet stumbles over as he cris-crosses between his worlds – from her – to that other love – from that gentle air conditioned life – to that steamy fecund swamp sucking him into itself – … Continue reading →