Author Archives: Ken Greenman

Slim-pickins’, facts. Faith offers fun with its possibilities, even if they are not, usually, probabilities. Like a really well-thought-out children’s play room for 4 or 5 year olds… (like you and me, speaking, relatively….!) Reams of blank news-print-paper to be … Continue reading →

6 quartered strawberries. 2 sliced bananas . 5 soup-spoon-scoops of blue berries. 1 BIG tupper-ware-bowl of Cheerios garnished with animal-food-cereals, all drowned in lactose-free-milk, maybe mixed-in with a moushed, mashed, triple-berry muffin for when all the solid-crunchy- stuffs been eaten. … Continue reading →

A play by Ken Greenman…(and AIaah…) (An actor sits at a desk. Lap-top light on… The rest of the stage is bare..and dark. Dimly lit by lap-top-light Ken: I am going to begin this…thing…for you, with an entry I wrote … Continue reading →

(His eye is on the sparrow/ So I know He watches me!) Is His eye on the cockroach as well as the sparrow? Does the hooded cobra get equal time in His eye with both bug and bird? If you … Continue reading →

We KNOW she’ll be coming ’round the mountain when she comes. But we just don’t know why she’s comin’! Nor why tis’ the ol’ red rooster’s got to die just because Aunt Lulla May likes scrawny rooster stew! And how … Continue reading →

So, Ok! I know, I know… Let’s get it out of the way! Are there any young male virgins today? Well, yes, there are… (or at least there were) I know from re-reading my journals. And then, She comes along. … Continue reading →

Oh! How blessed you are! For both your vocation and avocation call you to innervation! A child’s world can be a deadening place. Spark less, joy less, dangerous, exhausting. Where dreams are born only to die, unfulfilled. Where iron-cell-doors are … Continue reading →

I wonder if she’s been trained to know I might be picking up the drug that keeps me alive when she walks away from the window, just as I arrive. Maybe she’s adding some newly filled prescriptions to the bins … Continue reading →

I am nearly Hari-Krishna-like when it comes to my belief in the universal sacredness of life. Yes, even Hitler’s life. Stow him away in some tiny closet behind the Port-a-Pots of some huge-sloping-land-fill that accepts only toxic waste! You know … Continue reading →

…..but Father! Art is utility in the extreme! A smoothed, grooved, sledge-hammer handle. Mona Lisa smiling from her Louve wall. A Winslow Homer skiff, tacking on the waves. All lead to well smashed cinder blocks… concepts… say, proportion, balance… interpreted, … Continue reading →