sePtember

 mid september, sky diving leaves
lay faded and scattered upon battered fields of green
abandoned bony branches once arrayed
as noticeable in the nude as they are fully dressed

twirl and spin, softly descend to death — and that is life.

in a room from the rear i look upon myself with rapture
and i can see the ocean all day
smokey waves, and branches that sway.

how does the jay capture the fly
in his zig-zag pattern and butter in his eye. 

in such times, thought is distraction, conversation empty, 
the span of a moment transcends time, venues vanish,
the breeze of flow, satin winds blow, strumming the trees to the sound of rest
as they toss, releasing their grasp of leaves
and i hear a whisper, softly beneath it all — hallelujah, Hallelujah!

By K.Osei

aSante sana

a good book flows like Taichi, 
it can never truly be possessed. 
it moves between friends like good feelings.

like the tiger, 
its contents is without contention,
it can only be embraced for a while
and returned to the mountain.

it circulates and evolves.  
revolves like chi, 
like fair ladies work the shuttle.

it guides the hand like braille 
through text and texture, 
conceiving new life
soft and subtle as baby’s breath.

By K. Osei

aWakening

silence beneath tinnitus

breath flows below sinus
slithers of light pierce the blinds as dawn wrestles dusk
in a room dimly lit, 
i lay supine to the first day of creation.
unblemished before the lies, before violation,
air moves, sounds rise, light comes forth through the soil of stillness,
life begins – and there it ends, only to return without end.
the delicate dance I am.
what will be supplants that I see,
it is finished, it begins, it leaves and returns
it is whole if I can hold it.
i am that I am.

By K. Osei