Len Gurts Scratches Further

If they only didn’t believe
that it has to be metaphysical

they may accept
the ghouls that come in to me

at night, sometimes still,
though I cannot remember them being made.

That might not be mine: my ancestors
might have fell from

a high building. How should I know?
How should I know

what I feel?
Sometimes I hear sonnets

having never read them.
Sometimes I am vague and that is enough.

I just want to get rid of the ghouls, Doc.
Let me write something down—I’ll make it up.

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