Author Archives: Ken Greenman

A sapling springs from rotting spruce stump, resurrected from demise to rise into sunshine. Is there an atom or two left of the old spruce aware of its old self while conscious of its new beginning? I stand on stone, … Continue reading →

The next time this flat lander drives north to the Kingdom, before I die and definitely before you do, I would appreciate the pleasure of some friendly conversation with you, if only to thank you for fine hours I have … Continue reading →

A white wonderland out there this morning, heavy weight of snow bends branches low. But Nature gives fair warning to all. “It is still Fall.” She whispers through the mist, “Beware! There will be no solace after solstice. Yes, My … Continue reading →

The old oak finally fell. He grew just inside the wood line so he hurt nothing, no ones deck or porch, no telephone wires, no chipped stone chimney. He just gave up and came down. Only a few accommodating neighbors … Continue reading →

I miss Autumn, when hues lit my life, scarlets, yellows, russets in a golden light. But now my beard is white. My hair, what’s left, is gray. Snow swirls along my way. A ghost blanketing the ground under a pale … Continue reading →

And if, perchance… then the only boon I shall beg the clouds, as uneven trade for what little good I’ve done: that you be let to wait for me but a brief moment, so we, together, may journey past the … Continue reading →

If I should, perforce, proceed you, towards the great woods, I shall, if They allow, await you. I shall sit on the bench beneath the grand old maple sentinel in the meadow, guard of the darkening path into the trees. … Continue reading →

I can’t get my inside out of you. I’ve been upside down since I saw you. You’re always so right side up, so right side up. Your bottom is never on top. You never fall down, never! Yet now I … Continue reading →

How important to pith this frog, insert the probe, scramble the brain, electrocute the moist, silky skin of its green, brown, yellow body, watch its eyes bubble, watch its legs stretch, contract, stretch, contract on its electric rack, feel the … Continue reading →

I wash dishes well, or good, as in morally correct. I do not believe in air drying. Air drying washed dishes is passive aggressive cleanliness, leaving the remains of the job for someone else to arrange in the dish cabinet, … Continue reading →