..."THIS PROTEAN METAGIFT"--Wyatt Matturs /* Strawberry Creeker (Berkeley Busker) @ Vacant C339 (Re: A101 Artist General Sleepdebt Collection Agency Poexistential SOS @ GreatFull Thanks To Jennifer M /SAHA)

“To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there's the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come…” --Hamlet
That IS the question, for which no answer can yet be seen: to sleep less
perchance to never dream then, and leave life not as deep and sooner ended,
and so left unmade, there, trapped within, a stayed appeal
for poetic justice "unfriended"
as all the music that might have been, is left to grope
at hushed fragrance in the air, a last shape lost, the invisible irony of a name & date
unborne to memory in a solid cloud of marble, or generic ash in a mindful urn--
of course EVERYone's turn comes...
everyone goes from here undone, left behind
with or without warning: vanished into the swallowing portal of the single final moment
of that night or afternoon or morning when all aspirations, even love's deepest,
lift and scatter like so many leaves!
and the artist forward-leans to think his Muse then also grieves,
a lot consigned--too much so, keenly awaiting shortchange of time enough, space enough,
light enough,
for grace  enough, from the world "itself",
till the darkening closure of the lifetime his art chose to be through
half-unhaunts a worn-out host, in giving up that ghost of a chance, and yet still hope
in keeping, to win the rent's bet, own the secret of the dancer from the dance alone, almost,
to fairly in fact careen into virtual grandeur but then? well suddenly then the
sobering pivot: the realized loss, "line?" not a word!  felt to core, untouched, 
unforeseen...never speakably known--
mortal metaphor remixed to Launch-on-Zero
counted down unheard from Ten
overgiven to disown itself, as it whir,
through the evergreen.
Gaping, from every Time's IF
to always and only WHEN...
IS that Ithen? But hOw to remember What
...was the Question Again?
--Wyatt Matturs  
...Where lately I've most been hoping
to be, delivered from clamorous captivity
there "alone" I stood free & clear on the quietly sweet spot
of third floor balcony (absent official permission) waited for
and got 
this protean metagift of sunrise opening
through a near tree whose name
(if I ever knew in the first place)
escaped me in charismatic blossom...
...a few feet off in the air there go ahead lean 0ver strETCH!
said something in me
(wishing well beneath my "present years", a poker-facing tell...)
as if
it would be
that easy  anymore
"No, you're 64 now
get over it--you ain't "REACHIN"  for the fragrant tip
of that bough"
OHkay write: "of COURSE not." "...Duh."
But in five years, (stay alive!) be here then:
it will be for you
to inhale the fragrance straight-up
of all it came to mean
and touch those petals (now so endangeringly far)
with a comfort-zoned-forward lean.../*
BAKER'S BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY OF MUSICIANS  Michael Masley Entry (Death Date Pending, As It Whir)
COLLATERAL TIMBRE (7 Tools Of Engagement--Sampler) Channel Makeover With New Never-B4-Heard Sonic Explorations Coming Soon
FOR THE RECORD, NOW "SECURED" --The Most Street-Played Hours Of Any Busker In Berkeley History!
SLEEP ENOUGH? Live Long & Prosper! Not Enough? Good Luck w/ That!
*\_@_/*  A CALL TO ARTS  \*/    --Supported & Supportive, Pro-Creative Community Ghostship Solidarity Senior Member In Dynamic Good Standing:
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There's more where that came from!