Author Archives: Ken Greenman

He was no lamb! This was a lion led to slaughter. Not with bloody bleating, rather, with intention and a muffled growl, He submitted. Even knowing His power, aware of possibilities: a shredded centurion; a pharisee devoured; even never seeing … Continue reading →

I know why Saint Francis felt called to preach the Gospel to the birds. While he fed them meager scraps of his poverty, he saw humanity held no monopoly on sin. The little feathered fiends attacked each other, beak and … Continue reading →

I knew he was my brother when I saw him in tears standing in a theatre parking lot where a movie of war and its unforgiven sins tore him, sheared him, skinned him, yanked him back to deeds that were … Continue reading →

Do I pray for a buoyancy, a balmy drift, afloat His Will, or to be bounced along the rocky bottom, torn and tossed, turvy-topsey, gasping last breaths before drowning in His rushing force, grasping at sparkling hints that I might … Continue reading →

For seventy years, I have not seen depth, (an accident of birth left me monocular). perhaps explaining why I can quickly get the gist of a particular, but have had to train myself to parse its many peculiarities. This takes … Continue reading →

I had an epiphany when my Muse sang to me, “Don’t be a fool, my jewel! Write a Rap! It’s poetry!” Oh! Yes! Like a sonnet! Like a hemistich! A poem which owns its own emphasis, creating it in stressed … Continue reading →

At 7:23 A.M. when my eyes creak open to a window full of bright blue Carolina sky, then droop-doze-close, to pop open to gray clouds and drizzle and my bed-side death-reminder tock-ticks its admonition: “Ken! Get up! It’s 10:36 A.M.! … Continue reading →

A revisionist historian steps in to help little Billy when Billy asks his Mommy, (another revisionist historian), “Mommy, why did Daddy leave us?” and Mommy answers, “Daddy didn’t leave us, Dear. He’s been on a business trip- for five years.” … Continue reading →

Don’t let it happen, men! Don’t let the blood spitting, front-teeth-missing, rugby player or that goose-steping-skin-headed neo-nazis or Jim Anderson, the father who never knew best, or Atticus of Mockingbird and Watchman fame become the new frame for your new … Continue reading →

no thing. (boring) Hhhhmmmmm…. Ah! an idea of a thing! OOOOHH! a discovering of a need for the idea of the thing. weneedathingweneedathingweneedathing! NOW! a design for THAT IDEA of the thing. a design for the pieces of THAT IDEA … Continue reading →