Monday, September 14th, 2009...11:48 am
ken greenley | city playground

CITY PLAYGROUND
Life can be tough
on a small boy on a city playground
Nothing but steel and concrete
stretching for miles in every direction
Young eyes greedily grab
for space green freedom
I remember
How it was all left up to my soul’s eye
How it transformed high brick walls
Into ponderous canyons
where Indians and outlaws
roamed wild
Holes in chain link fence
became portholes to other times
The playground blacktop
an night-time ocean
The basketball backboards hulking icebergs
And straight up
that small square of sky
enclosed by buildings
Seemed bluer
Reached higher
The clouds more free and drifting
Each one scarce
Precious
Ken Greenley
is a writer who lives in Denver, Colorado. The number of places he’s lived is only exceeded by the number of job’s he’s had. Greenley likes to explore the themes of class division (in a supposedly classless country), the struggle to stay spiritual in the modern world, and the growth episodes that occur in childhood. He thinks art, particularly writing, should combat media brainwashing, and should examine the clash between what we’re told and what really happens. He tries to make his material as fuuny as possible, because he finds it hard to make modern life seriously, and considers it his mission “to make people laugh and think at the same time.”
Much more on Ken Greenley can be found by clicking here… and here…
some related articles are listed below:
- ken greenley | gasoholic
- ken greenley | sacrifice
- ken greenley | dead cans o’dad beer
- ken greenley | so much less than us
- ken greenley | really big steps
- ken greenley | creed
- ken greenley | don’t fall in
- ken greenley | everyman today
- ken greenley | magnetic colfax
- ken greenley | the bees don’t want that monsanto food
- ken greenley | miriam halliday borkowski
- ken greenley | night shift poem
- todd moore | and the gunfight at dodge city
- david plumb | elk city
- mark weber | four poems from new york city
- miriam halliday borkowski | the drunk’s wife leaving the city
- miriam halliday borkowski | come see the crack lines on julian in saint francis of assisi’s city
- miriam halliday borkowski | sea poem for sarah on her 21st birthday and because she just graduated from the american academy of dramatic arts in new york city












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