Author Archives: Ken Greenman

It’s cops against bad guys- sometimes. Sometimes cops are bad guys, bad guys, just guys. Sometimes cops are just. Bad guys are bad guys. But, bullets are always bullets, blood is always, blood.

A young, black, male, 19, maybe. orange cap covered by a hoody, long shorts, orange sneakers, jives down the street, Jammin’ with his music. I”m stuck at a red light as he sidewalk dances by. I used to smile at … Continue reading →

The Papal miter. The Yalmakha on the bald spot. The Mecca facing rug. The white collard preacher. These are the trappings of belief. Calling the faithful to prayer. Kissing the Torah scrolls. The Sunday sermon. The Communion chimes. These are … Continue reading →

In those few moments before the not-really-dark-enough for “can’t see my hand in front of my face” lightlessness almost conquers dusks gray, adding shades to shades of night, but not quite, when, there, on the surface of the irrigation pond … Continue reading →

Pity the people who no longer see purpose in the poetic. Paralized by prose, locked in logic, they don’t get the gist of the small, dark cloud on the horizon racing toward them with the blinding speed of a fist.

Last night, The New England Patriots, 10 and 0 as of yesterday morning, lost. Tom Brady lost. Tight end Gronkowski carted off the field with a destroyed knee. All this tragedy perped by Denver Broncos, minus Paton Manning!!! The aging … Continue reading →

Ah! The evanescent destiny of mist, rising from the feeding streams, the chilly river. What choice has mist but to be mist, to filter sunrise into shimmering beams? None but to gift its widows mite, a crystal glimmering, to rainbow … Continue reading →

The acne faced carni kid, a rookie but a quick study, caught on fast to his new role. The old guy, a good teacher, but his knees and back ached when he squat to long in one spot. So, when … Continue reading →

The wondering skeptic, dying, stared at Death, whose eyes smiled, Death being in on the Great Joke. With a worried thought, the skeptic drifted into sleep. When he woke, soaked in the wet sand on that distant shore, the shock! … Continue reading →

I know that Irving has made me a shrew, but there was, truly, nothing else I could do. Oh! when we were young, back when we met, he was carefree and funny, do all on a bet. With a pint … Continue reading →