Author Archives: Ken Greenman

“I’ve written all that needs to be written. I’ve said all that needs saying. I’ve always said and written Truth, even when I’ve prevaricated. My stories are grander, more important, than everyones except Solomon’s. No one surpasses Eccleasties in Wisdom … Continue reading →

Lacey, hazy sunlight lit silken maze where lovers wander, wondering fingers reach for the touch of the one. Souls are woven together in fairy dreams where all are awake, senses sparkle in morning dew, midnight moons rays, foils for warm … Continue reading →

I ran to Grammy Genevieve because, reading of Margret Fuller and the Dial, I learned she’d found no flesh on those “oversouled” philosophers she edited and I had found no soul in that knuckle dragging linebacker who’d been tackling me … Continue reading →

Atticus warned us. It is a sin, their beautiful songs and so on… But what about theft? Pirating the robins tune, the wrens, the cardinals. The white suited lawyer should have known better. What original opus has that thieving bird … Continue reading →

Oh! We are tenacious here at Aloha Acres, Hawaiian themed senior citizen parking spot in the Hudson Valley. We have our own community association, our president, eighty two, (imagine!) hot rodding around on her golf cart, passing out the news … Continue reading →

Well, it’s not a trailer park, really. Oh? Really? It’s a retired-senior-citizen-mobil-home-village-rest-stop before the stumbles, the hip surgery, leading to the Windy Willows Rest Home. It’s serious about the SENIOR thing. You can’t live here unless you’re over 60. And, … Continue reading →

How fortunate for us! So many bugs, squiggling around beneath Gods green rugs. Or else, pity the poor robin or ravenous wren! Pity us too, caught in that fuss. Imagine the earth if things weren’t thus?

Beneath the dirt, perhaps two inches, perhaps ten feet, lies a maze of roots, thin spindly things or thigh thick oak roots nourishing their trunks, branches, leaves, seeds, holding in place rich soil for foundation of forest, elm, pine, maple, … Continue reading →

Oh, he was right about Chicago, “Hog butcher to the world.” But that “…bucket of ashes…”, well, no. The Past is a swamp filled with a soupy ooze where wriggle and writhe spider, venomed snake and creepy crawling things with … Continue reading →

His American History teacher caught him unaware. That’s good. “Education unsettles the mind” someone said. It was the number, 14, the 14th year of three centuries in a row: 1814, 1914, 2014, that his history teacher caught him with. “So, … Continue reading →