If There’s a Jekyll Hidden in this
Shoreless street of eighty velum
Where the oldest house in
Hyde park is Pray tell a square
hidden in the trees
that you’ve never rolled
You eyes upon
with Spooks your never get to meet
It remains to be seen as it played
two rounds with God’s address
Book and broken hourglass
At one now With a borrowed pair
Of ginger cats buckled shoes
to accompany this marinade
is presumption their rattlesnake
The spectre at the world of perspective
Lost in literature of building
follys out of leaves to create a hill.
You mill and mull ingredients
For wine to get too sleep
Then hollowed be thy name
Nestling on this dormant island .
