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

Advice to a Sad Friend

Get a journal. 

Start scribbling. 

Now. 

Do it. 

Keep it with you. 

Look up. 

Look around. 

Be quiet. 

Notice. 

Listen. 

Write it down. 

Document your 
experiences 

for your own posterity

to remind your future self 

what a shitty mess this felt like 

and how 

in the end 

it was nothing more

than a small blip. 

Turn your suffering 

into beauty.

You'll be glad you did

and so will we. 

Chin up, dearest.

-Ken

for j.d.o.

Van Niddy Press   Fall 2016

Eyebrows of a Dog

. . . and it was then that I realized he was my equal. 

He knew it and I knew it, yet there I was, drunk, drinking whiskey and eating bits of salami and cheese and throwing him the occasional morsel like I was Henry the 8th or some shit when really I was just another drunken asshole with a dog who loves him and looks up at you thinking, "Really? Again?" 

George Carlin was right, it's their eyebrows that get you.

(a stream of consciousness while reading 'Post Office' by Bukowski)

Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   August 2016

Summer Haiku

The Universe is

experiencing itself

through my consciousness.

Playful cat chasing

summer shadows, unaware

the hawk chases him.

Observing the fly

walk the blades of summer grass,

I feel like a god.

The Journey of Life:

stumbling between two dark holes

alone with reason.

Morning dew lingers

then hangs heavy in the air

spurned by listless clouds.

~~~~

Fat woman snoring

across the aisle, a bad day

to forget headphones.

On awakening,

fat woman eats her Cheetos--

My diet starts today.

Son of Fat Woman:

reeks of smoke, saggy pants, hoody.

We do not judge...much.

Full figured woman

losing gravity's challenge,

I wish her good luck.

-Amtrak, Fremont to Sacramento

 ~~~~

Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   Summer 2016