Author Archives: Ken Greenman

Cotton fish swimming in a sea-blue summer sky. The old Jew, black hat, gray beard, white shirt, black suspenders tugging up black trousers, strolls with his black dressed, violet shawled, red kerchiefed old wife, hand in hand, looking up, they … Continue reading →

We sit at our dressing table. We lean against our sinks. We peer into our mirrors to stare at the line in our forehead that wasn’t there yesterday. We see the gray encroaching as the blonde, the black, the brunette … Continue reading →

If you own the technology and are willing to risk resisting arrest, or, if you have the imagination, go stand in the middle of Wall Street, maybe near the Bull. Dig a Mitchnerian shaft straight down to discover, layer over … Continue reading →

We’ve migrated South, now. Our new home is unpacked and placed. 100 some bins and boxes filled with paintings, books, pottery, kitchenware, winter fleece, summer linen, photos, tools, kites, journals… all the accumulated stuff of living 70 years in an … Continue reading →

Lately, in dreamland, I’m living in a rich dowagers wisteria vine and spanish moss draped live-oak shaded mansion, dilapidating down through three centuries of mist and mold. Her husband? All that’s left of him is the scent of his cigars … Continue reading →

I felt light would never come. Then came morning with the Son.

We are of the Spirit, at times. We believe. We worship. We confess. We wait for Heaven with bated breaths. And we are of the Flesh, at times. We devour. We quench our blood thirst. We sait our lusts. We … Continue reading →

Here’s to you for being a material girl in a material world! But where are you, Louise, now that you’ve passed through the wall between soil and spirit, into a dimension where abide leaf hidden fairy, the unconsumed burning bush, … Continue reading →

He was eighty-two. I was twenty-nine. Marjorie and I were buying our first and, as it turned out, our only home these last 53 years. The old man and his wife had owned the place since Genesis, Chapter 1. I … Continue reading →

We do laude the songbirds of early spring, their melodies startling us like a symphony in the woods. Other birds have wintered here with us, the chickadee, the nuthatch, the titmouse, a few daring cardinals, red splashes on white snow. … Continue reading →