Author Archives: Ken Greenman

My dreams, of late, grow louder, almost choral. I have ceased being deaf in my dreams. And old. And cranky. Dreams grow younger when old men dream.

Alchemic time turns brunette to silver, athletic to spry. In due course, old couples morph to twins. Then they are one. They have won! Enemy no longer, the clock melts. Soon, only the soft waiting place desired.

Think not, when curtain falls I disappear Imagination wed to memory births a thriving world, where, running through its streets and forests, come the images of our play, where it echos in the hearts of the audience and I live … Continue reading →

The invisible devisability between dream and dawn is preparation for the moment between breath and death. Shrouded, shimmering line, crossed vaguely between seconds, braces us for that finale’ when we slip from time to eternity.

I love that my wife loves me. That’s one of us. Maybe, since someone that lovable loves me, there’s hope.

I believe God appreciates doubt. Doubt makes faiths prayer the sweeter to Her ears.

The left hand of doubt clasps the right hand of faith, each to balance each, so a simple prayer can reach some divine destination.

I deny Ushers addition. I mean, come on! 6,500 something years? Please!! Masterdon metacarples measure in the millions. Slate, in the billions. Yet, wouldn’t it be nice to, if only for one dark night, cuddle with the child’s blanket belief … Continue reading →

I snuggle, warm beneath patch work quilts, tattered in the patches, frayed at the edges, faith and doubt stitched together by the knowing, as the cold night approaches, that some time soon, I will need no quilts to sleep.

Faces etched in tree bark smile at me as I mush through knee deep snow. They know I am harmless, like but unlike others who carry ax and saw, keen to open spaces. I let my eye see what it … Continue reading →