The Indoor Poet Is Sick Poem by RIC BASTASA

it would have been more
truthful, or
earthly, well grounded
candid, or
exciting if he had taken his
way out
of the door to the garden
and once again see the trees
leaves falling
birds pecking on some
grains bees
taking some pollen

here he would be an
spectator
a story teller
a fact gatherer
nature lover
restive and
feasting on what the
earth has to offer
here he has no waste
for words
feelings fly
thoughts on some
unseen wings

things change
door hinges are rusting
gives the noise when
you try to open it
like creaking bones

and so he stays in his room
focuses on
imagination
more often sleeps
and relies on dreams
which are nothing
but the same emotions
revealing to him
who he really is
psychedelic and more
like psychiatric sessions
with no one but
he himself as shrink
and patient rolled into
one

he follows his heart
into the road maps of his
poetry in adversity
metaphors of
necessity