Author Archives: Ken Greenman

I could write a poem. I could shift my laundry from washer to dryer. Both acts imperative. One, creative, one practical. Doing them both renders me ready for living into tomorrow. The wash dried so I won’t be naked. The … Continue reading →

Love is my last link, restraining me from insanity. Make no mistake. If that link would break, I slip beneath a dark sea to never wake.

Sabbath can not be kept at bay by mere belief. It devours us, drowns us in holy water and mystery. We cannot escape it, even in worship.

The last lie is the worst lie. It’s the one I tell myself: There is a place where Someone waits, So my eyes close. There is no pulse. The in-out of air ceases. I pass on and on! Shocked into … Continue reading →

After years and years, he’d been widowed. The bar was near and crowded. People, Others. So he sat on a stool with a Cranberry and lime, listening to the lines, the number of numbers exchanged, the numb frivolity, but nothing … Continue reading →

He was a perfect baby, no baby ever prettier, with raven hair, a riveting stare. His name was Adolph Hitler.

The moment of absolute clarity. Everyone has it. A knowing beyond all doubt. What the past was all about. What this moment means. What the future will be bringing. What the cosmos will be singing. Deaths moment is not what … Continue reading →

Roaring past me, a late night racer, big black pick-up truck, maybe navy, purple, dusting me like my wheels were square, ripping through the red light like it wasn’t there, easy 80 in a 40. Behind him, chasing, a trooper, … Continue reading →

It is a common human malady with which we all are stuck: Geoskitzophrennia!!! The world is cracking up. Swimming in ambrosia, we smash each others cup. Reptilian or gorrilian, (whatever Darwin said), we crucify each other until we all are … Continue reading →

He manages the baffle without a stumble. Curls around the suet holder for his morning nibble, his winter fluffy tail gripping for support. Even after I’ve yelled, clapped, snarled from my kitchen window. “Get outta there! Suet’s for birds!” I … Continue reading →