Issue 5:
Soul
Kim Welliver
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Oz Apocrypha of Soul
a sestina
Like scarecrowed wretch in Oz
I seek an organ, vital
not Gray's anatomical stuff,
but redemption's apocrypha
internal cotter-pin, elusive
as hope beyond heart's edges
Horizon's diminishing edges,
the poppied-sleep of Oz,
dead sea-truths, none are as elusive
as the illumination I seek, the vital
light, clear as vestal-moon, the stuff
of religious tenet, apocrypha.
Life bleeds prayer and sacramental stuff
beneath belief's cryptic edges
blooms in bruises of dogma, apocrypha.
Jerusalem's sand, yellow bricks of Oz
hide throbbing viscera of consciousness' vitals
sealed in caved pots of clay, elusive.
Modern intervention, crop-circle-elusive
carves the id and ego, Freudian stuff
but ignores essential centrifuge, this vital
internal thrust. Unmoored, I drift along edges
past cyber-genetics toward apocrypha,
through fire's baptism, dizzied into Oz.
Obscure as untutored translations of apocrypha;
soul's definition, slips eel-elusive,
as Dorothy's dream of Oz,
slithers sideways, slipstreams into stuff
beyond belief's manic edges
clues that escape my fist, vital
to my incipient salvation. As I glean vital
anima of primal apocrypha,
moving toward benediction's edges
the pure, moon-sylph, stuff
the essence elusive,
more doubtful than Baum's Oz
Vital, elusive apocrypha
this shining gift, this thing called soul
this stuff, this edge of Oz
~Kim Welliver
An award winning poet and novelist, Kim Welliver's work can be found in an assortment of print and online anthologies. Email.
© 2000 by Kim Welliver. All Rights Reserved.
© 2000-2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated April 23, 2002.