Thank You For Visiting Sacramento

Today
when we hugged
and said our goodbyes
and you said
I love you

I tried but
could not speak

and I realized
my heart had jumped up
in a panic and attempted
to escape before bursting
but got lodged in my throat

and I knew if I spoke
all the words I would make
would sound like tears

so I just smiled
and quickly walked away
so that the last thing
I would give you
would not be my grief.

I love you, too.


Ken Owen      Van Niddy Press     Sacramento, January 2017

The American Experiment

Photograph by Dianne Woods

The American 

Experiment 

is not dead

regardless 

of your despair

or what they tell you.

The American 

Experiment

is not broken

but doing exactly what 

we should expect it to do 

if left attended 

by a select group 

and not the collective 

for whom it should speak. 

The American 

Experiment 

has delivered

painful lessons of neglect 

and made public the shame 

of our complacency. 

The American 

Experiment 

has survived 

great afflictions that have

given us a vision of the perfect 

because we have experienced our imperfections 

and lessons in healing 

because we have suffered 

and caused great suffering.

The American 

Experiment 

grants no immunity 

to the righteously indignant

who deny their guilt

and cast blame upon their neighbors.

The American 

Experiment 

sings 

the song of the Body Politic 

written with the sound of voices

complicit in their silence.

The American 

Experiment 

pauses at all crossroads

as we determine 

if these are the times that were

or the times that shall be.

Ken Owen    Van Niddy Press   December 2016

Move The Bed

In the room
that I rent
the bed faces
a closet

with full length
mirrors
on each
door

and
for the
life of
me

I cannot think
of a more
disheartening
or torturous way

to begin
and end
each day
than by subjecting
myself
to the review

of what
all those days
of crazy
living
and bad
decisions

have done
to this image
that was
once
beautiful.

Tomorrow

I move
the
bed.


Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   December 2016

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