Author Archives: Ken Greenman

“Know what I really wish?” bubbled the lovely cuddle fish to her new amour. “I wish that you could cuddle me more, or is that too much to ask?” She giggled through her gills at the silliness of her gambit. … Continue reading →

Atilla the Hum, Edenic in his serenity, perches in the scrub brush, hawking the four feeders spaced on the corners of the aviary feeding zone I’ve filled with seed and suet feeders, apple slices scattered in the grass and four … Continue reading →

I’m an old man farting poetry, most times leaving merely an unsightly brown-green bull-shit stain inside my whitey-tighties. But- Once in a great while, I get it right, the poem punching with the force of a well focused fist on … Continue reading →

You have a Spirit part who knows everything about you and ABOUT EVERYTHING. It knows the name and number of the best swimmer in your Daddy’s sperm-cell loaded ejaculate who planted his flag on your Mommas’s egg. It knows your … Continue reading →

I believe we’ll all be naked through Eternity. Gone will be the concealing hair-suit cloaks of iniquity! I mean, hell!, that’s the way the Creator created us! Nude as new born babes! Ah! Paradise! Not just “unashamed, at last”, but … Continue reading →

Mabel and I were doing our daily pool walk, crossing back and forth in the shallow end, back and forth, Mabel complaining about her husband, Ralph, I, laughing about Charles’ – quirks, (lying through my teeth…) back and forth, back … Continue reading →

Voyager celebrates today her 40th year in flight from billions of miles out in interstellar space. In 40 more years, not having slowed: ten miles a second! she will be billions more. But I can catch her still, for the … Continue reading →

I grow old. My teeth chew sand to say it, like Quints fingernails across that chalk board. I said,”I grow old.” Not “I’m getting older”. That’s for a 17 year old to say as he stretches for the day he … Continue reading →

When my mind caught up to my body I began to choose my fate, and I choose the “small and narrow” for my road to Heavens gate. But before to long I felt it, that sirens call I’d hear and … Continue reading →

Mother, brought up, trapped, between her Irish-Catholic Father who abused by never caring and her careless, Norwegian-Adventist Mother for whom Mom was, at best, a nuisance, learned a little from the secret whispers among the women in the shops and … Continue reading →