Author Archives: Ken Greenman

the little lost boys who remember what couldn’t have happened, but did, that, like little boys are to wanton, predator priests: they fuck us for their sport, I remember, now, there on the dock on City Island, on Long Island … Continue reading →

Protect us not, O’ God from the vigor of Your blessings. Buffet us with the wind of Your Word. Drown us in Your laughter’s joyous tears. Astound us with Your power through all our earth-bound years. Then, coffined in ever … Continue reading →

I remember. I remember what I remember. Science is discovering how I remember. But, why, do I remember ? Why do I remember her saying, “I will be your holy virgin and your whore.” ? Why do I remember, instantly, … Continue reading →

In the good old days, when dauntless sailors knew the earth was flat, on the tattered edges of explorers maps was frightened writ: “There be dragons here!” But now we know our planet’s round. There be no fringe on earth … Continue reading →

May the Spirit use Her alchemy to make your orisons, diamonds, lavished at the feet of Divinity. May the Spirit use Her alchemy to make your praise songs, strings of golden threaded pearls draping the red velvet arm rests of … Continue reading →

I know where every bathroom is in every Lowes, Sunoco, Shop Rite and Pizza Hut in a thirty mile radius from my recliner. I know my daily dose of Tamsulosin is not always effective and that the typical rumbling timpani … Continue reading →

A soft summer morning. No shimmer in the lake. No stirring in the leaves. I explode the ordered weave of the universe by dewebbing a captive butterfly, leaving mommy spider and her babies to starve. A speckled yellow butterfly snared … Continue reading →

The Beerkill. Step out from the shore one yard, it’s two feet deep. Three steps further out, no bottom. But what if you dive from the stern or you leap from the gunnels? You may discover the edge of a … Continue reading →

My nine years old granddaughter, all seventy slender, determined pounds of her, full of moxie and grit and giggles and kindness, having just learned how to breathe in this new element, is, for her first time, stroking, kicking and splashing … Continue reading →

I love that I can do the things I love to do even though I can’t do the things I love to do like I used to do the things I love to do, still.