inside disregarded shack
full of and
haunted by
long-ago written poems
dust is falling
through angled light columns
to threadbare rug
and faded painted plywood
from outside
i imagine i am
inside
with clear mind
hot tea,
focused and working
and not
outside
with dogs
and jobs
and kids
and houses
and money
in mind
inside the poem home
i am a new man
i call the dogs
from down the beach
and go inside
inside
____
Jonas Lamb 