Author Archives: Ken Greenman

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 →

What if I’d decided to take Buddy for a hike, before I’d left? What if you’d misplaced your car key? What if you hadn’t been there when I arrived? What if I hadn’t tumbled into your eyes? What if you … Continue reading →

My memories are old songs, with a few forgotten words, long silent pauses. Trying to sing them creates unanswered questions: Who said that? What? Where did that happen? When? How? And the worst: Why? But the melodies, foggy, though remembered, … Continue reading →

I grow fonder of living as I grow older. The grinding of teeth over a miss-perceived slight, the awful vicissitude of some angry fight, “the slings and arrows…”, mellow into occasional moans as I push my body up from my … Continue reading →

When He said, “It is good”, did He mean all of it, including the temptation: the apple, snake and tree? If it wasn’t All Good. why declare it so? Was it a mistake? If He is mistaken, He isn’t God. … Continue reading →

Before the serpent, slithering in that tree, hissed his seductive melody, Adam and Eve would stumble on its roots as they strolled by, listless in Eden, listening to the syllabant whispers in the leaves. After its sweet apple soured in … Continue reading →

Dear Miss O’Malley. I know you always say WRITE ABOUT WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT. but I’m only 3d grade. That doesn’t give me much stuff to write about. 8 years isn’t a lot of time to know a lot of … Continue reading →