Author Archives: Ken Greenman

None of us is fixed to a sure thing, some all powerful truth explaining everything that is, today, then tomorrow fadeing from the believers memory, replaced by another, IDEA… maybe, at times, its opposite… at times, its first cousin-once removed, … Continue reading →

To say I saved Rekah in any way during the riots in Muljab is, of course, nonsense. Her beautiful brown eyes found me before I ever saw her slender-sari-wrapped-body, washed in blood, gore streaked bodies concealing her, thus her escape … Continue reading →

Just recently, I won the multi-million dollar PowerBall. I got six bucks. I’ve learned to take what I get. Sure, Fortune might have smiled her brighter smile at me. I could be sitting in the parking lot waiting for Bank … Continue reading →

The Cardinal is a hint of how heaven comes, or death. He does not flutter in, a slow motion float. Rather not here – then- here- in a sudden seconds bold shimmer of a red now. I wish I might … Continue reading →

An old song says, “…I ain’t got long to stay here….”. but I feel no haste to “…steal away, steal away home…”. For mine is the hot flow of warm love between my darling wife and I, the bell tone … Continue reading →

Where should the gentleman walk as he escorts his lady? The old wags say it’s “Gentleman to the curb” to block the splash from muddy streets, to protect her from horse hoof spray, (ever a danger on our streets today). … Continue reading →

The art before the art. The practise through which the poet uncovers all the sizes and shapes of poetry… as my brilliant grand daughters architectural instinct espresses itself in beautiful, breath taking sand castles dotting the tide line of our … Continue reading →

The Son and His Father played catch in the park outside the Pearly Gates. The angels joined in for a lark! See the Son at short-stop, the Father, on first. Gabriel at third, keeping up the chatter, “No Batter! No … Continue reading →

In my Fathers house were many women. If it were not so, I wouldn’t need to tell. That includes my Mother, for a brief stint, twenty five years, give or take. I mean, after all, I am here as is … Continue reading →

I knew it – when I couldn’t wear the same pajamas from between our seven-fishes-Christmas Eve through presents and ham and cheese on Christmas Morning through Christmas Day Eve when Poppa and Nana and Mima and Pops slept over, had … Continue reading →