Residents Part Two: The Making Of A Soul
Edweena went to calumet and left from there to college;
She took along a porcupine whose name was known as knowledge;
Now their relationship was fraught with pangs of loving hunger.
The Porcupine could question all, but all she new was slumber.
A huge easy cozy wants our kiss to triumph,
But unbelievable admits --
Some questions receive a guarantee to shake you up.
How much marriage urges a windmill to pinch infinity?
Is a magic hid-a-bed the final home of Spanish fire?
Is firm corn merrier under gifts of less important love?
We wonder.
But fantasy moves ahead;
For the iceman just took a turn for the better
And a small object flies from his mouth;
A daring, jewel scales down the belted ear system
And you have the modular optimistic silver original.
Welcome to the offshoots of Jupiter.
Edweena never knowing why her friend would ramble so
She shut him out and left a pout to bleed upon the snow.
Mourning Glories open only after noon begins;
The open and the broken have begun to blend again.
They freeze a shape about the nape
Of nectar and of knee;
They leave a sleeve, they weave a grieve fox
Mourning's never free.
The aching and the breaking are the making of a soul.
(The empties that have been returned relieve us of a goal).
Now who is gone and who is right
And who is left to see
For who is left is just a few
Can two be more than three?
