The Haunting

Since I could 

not put an end 

to the

haunting 

I have decided 

to become

cordial 

with the ghost.

I've made my way 

back to 

the edge 

of the chasm

where we 

can now be

civil and

exchange 

heartfelt 

greetings 

and 

well-wishes

from across the 

unspoken forever-space 

high above the ruins of

our smoldering bridge.

Not what I had imagined,

but it's better this way
as long as you don't
look down.

Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press        November 2016

The Beauty of Dying

Photograph by Dianne Woods

There seems 

a rural mystery

of an unwritten law

amongst people who live

out in the country:

they let old barns 

die at their own pace.

There is something 

about an old barn
past its prime

abandoned
alone
in a field

it is architectural death
in slow motion
on public display.

There is an instant fascination
when we see a barn

crooked
stooped
held up by the wind and visions 

of its former glory

that causes us 

to pull over on our Sunday drive

and take a picture to document
the beauty of dying slowly 

in a rolling field

and the thought comes

very naturally
that all it would take
is one gentle push
to end the suffering

so
why don't they 

do it?

    ***

The Japanese are famous
for the respect they bestow
upon their elders

but we hide our old folks away 

from places they want to return
in places they don't know
and pay people to make sure 

they stay there

while we turn away
from discussions of suffering
and one gentle push

yet we let barns
take their time dying
where they have always been

and we pull over
to watch.



Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   

November 2016

You Know Something She Doesn't

I have always thought
that if sex could sing
it would sound
like Mavis Staples.

I have also thought
yet I carry no supporting evidence
that Mavis Staples is
most likely
a deeply religious person
who would bristle at the very mention
of that analogy.

Chances are slim
at best
that I will ever get the opportunity
to meet Ms Staples
but even if I did
I would never see myself
telling her this
even though I'd be dying too

so that creates a secret
hiding somewhere out there
in the dark

that you and I share:

Mavis Staples
will live out the rest of her days
never knowing I think her singing
sounds like sex

but
now
you do.


Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   November 2016

Fall Haiku 2016

In formation: birds

     fly south effortlessly above

crawling freeway cars

          ~~~~~

Golden light of Fall

     dances upon still waters--

High tide at sunset.

-West bound on the San Mateo Bridge, October 2016

          ~~~~~

Without reflection

     the mirror holds no answers.

Become The Mirror.

          ~~~~~

Fall quickly, blossom,

     and embrace your destiny 

in the world beyond.

          ~~~~~

The old dog sleeping--

     twitching limbs, quivering lips,

dreams of love and war.

          ~~~~~

Waves upon the shore

     proclaiming a steady pulse---

the earth's beating heart.

-A day in Pacifica, CA

          ~~~~~

Oh sleepy suburb,

     Tonight, 8:00pm, Magic!

Country AND Western!

-Live Music at Bird and Beckett Books and Records

San Francisco, CA

          ~~~~~

Experiencing

     his image in the mirror,

what would the dog change?

          ~~~~~

Let impermanence

     bring not fear of tomorrow 

but joy for the Now.

          ~~~~~

Leaping to his death,

     the leaf hit a spider web,

"Stick around," said Fall.

Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   November 2016

Sharp As A Tack

One morning
as I was walking 

into a local burger place 

for a breakfast sandwich

a white haired gent
was coming out.

He looked happy
but he was shaking his
head and saying

"My oh my oh me oh my oh."

He didn't notice me
until I said

"My sentiments exactly."

Startled, he turned
looked up
looked me over quickly
and said with
a big smile

"Yeah, but I'm retired!
Are you retired?"

I couldn't figure
what that had to do
with anything.

"I'm working on it"
was all I could
come up with.

"Great pun!"
he exclaimed
with an even bigger smile.

Retired
Happy
Crazy

and sharp
as a
tack.

I hope to be that lucky

when I'm retired.


Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   October 2016

Large Puddles of Rain

Ruby, age 3: 

"Popi, we should go to the park 

and see how the swings are doing."

Popi, age 58, laughing:

"Well honey, since you put it that way, sure.

Just then
Grandma came for a visit
and in the excitement
all thoughts
of checking on the swings
were lost

so Popi sat back in his chair
at the backyard picnic table
opened a beer
and watched his girls
continue to play in
large puddles of rain.


Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   Sacramento, Fall 2016