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Author Archives: Ken Greenman
418 The Only Proof I Need July, 2011
On a sleepless, steamy, summer night, I sit at my desk inflating logical arguments for the existance of God: Ontological, existential, sina qua non et cetra, blowing them up, lite skinned, faith-filled balloons floating around me. Then I pull a … Continue reading
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417 Accidents happen Aug. 2011
When They said, “Let there be the Big Bang”, They created their first accident. They giddily made room for creativity, love, copulation, world wide web, IUDs, IEDs, mosquitoes, laughter, one turtle out of ten thousand living long enough to make … Continue reading
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416 Cold Stone July, 2011
Relish the surprise of no line at Cold Stone. Order the strawberry ice cream. Mix it with chocolate bits, rasberries, blueberries, whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles. Order the “gotta have it” size. Sit and eat it slowly with your lovely lady, … Continue reading
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415 The view from 62 July, 2011
I have less time to live than I have lived, not counting those other times. If I’m lucky enough to reach my early nineties, even ninety five would be fine so long as I know who I am. where I … Continue reading
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414 Objects for orisons July,2011
Here I am praying to trees again, listening to their kind council coming in soft sighs, coming in howling screams. Why not trees? They are as God, so much bigger than me, their voice is Her voice. She is pleased … Continue reading
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413 Pals around June, 2011
I love to pal around with Nancy. To run around, play around dance around, kiss around and around and around with Nancy. If this was England, I would wager a pound that Nancy loves to pal, run, play, dance, kiss … Continue reading
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412 Haunting Hymns June, 2011
The old songs still sing themselves in my soul. As other mighty fortresses of faith crumble in my mind, the old words and old melodies echo in my soul. “Lead on oh King Eternal” “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound” … Continue reading
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411 To late, the milorginite. June, 2011
Deer, nibbled the purple passion down to the dirt. A pot of oozing stubble is all they left. They didn’t touch the hosta, clematis, lilies, pot’o gold, the not yet budding black-eyed-susan or bee balm. I’d spread milorganite on the … Continue reading
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401 I’ll be willing if only they June, 2011
Why don’t deer dine on dandelions, or graze on grass, or just trim the forsythia bushes? I mean, why just flower beds? Tulip buds, hosta leaves, almost open lilies? I mean, one mans garden is another mans weeds. Why won’t … Continue reading
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409 The beat goes on until. June, 2011
Just to start anywhere, Nanking, the brutal rape of thousands of Chinese women by the Imperial Army of Japan. Auchwitz, the cold blooded murder and cremation of millions of Jews by the men and women of Hitlers army. Dresden, the … Continue reading
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