John Kusper

July 25, 2009

CELESTIAL SUBWAY (SILENT SYMPHONY)

Lit by the synaptic flicker of a nervous lantern

Void imbued by an osmosis of shadow into light.

Magnetic vortex of sunspot immigration.

Riding the Celestial Subway,

Ploughing through the magma clouds drifting through the strobeing orbitals of liquid timespace,

depth stretched into a clear blur of sonic texture,

defying locality by scattering its echoes throughout the chambers of retinal ruins.

Twist the clock neither forward nor back but through,

To a spherical dimension of time, doorway out the sixty degrees dominating and determining.

Doubt with faith in order to dream.

Boundary dissolves with the bliss of honest hope.

Honor the unknown with a spiraling silence.

Your spinal chord will replace your optical nerves.

We are always a new beginning without origin.

Opening the oracles of the overt,

Tea-leaf saturation of conversation collected in the belly of the skull.

Hallucinate the heat of a dynamic digestion in this ethereal elemental synthesis.

Using a circle with a dot in the middle to represent the sun is

A commentary on the arbitrary nature of boundaries.

A splash of amoeba imagined in a retina reveals the whole pool of living and lasting matter.

At least from one encompassing angle of biological temporality.

We are still amazed by the dance of light on water,

and the shadows cut by ripples onto and into the surface of the sand,

The wind along the rush of crashing ocean waves still

captures the autopoiesis of the celestial machinery’s

silent symphony.

THE PURITY OF WINTER AIR

The purity of winter air, here beside the water,

Where trees have sent their leaves to sea in hope.

To ride these soft waves with eager eyes that peer out of a span of barren twigs,

In outline not nlike a lick of crackled lightning.

Like one born of snow, to ponder moving seas, just beyond the fortress of the wood.

Cloak me in sunlight as I gaze unto the watershadows,

Thick with oils from a boat’s bash into bridge,

It seems the birds have gathered here to escape the main pool’s acrid grasp of suffocation.

May the bubbles breathed by sea stones and their spirits aside save you from the spoil.

The shore’s light up with the flash of your scattered wingspans.

SKY BLEEDS LAVA IN A SLOW WATERFALL OF DAWN

Sky bleeds lava in a slow waterfall of Dawn.

Upon the cold slate cemetery sea,

Whose hands wave graves and cradles alike to mossy stoneside.

The soft fibers of these shores absorb mystery like a sponge.

I inhale the warm steam of this great green tea ceremony filling the morning sky.

Follow with me, the gypsy frenzy, of dreamy spontaneity,

Through streets of confusion, past spectacle’s illusion:

Where the moment’s awareness is lost in an explosion of superficial dialogue with fear.

We need not go beyond the gateway to go through.

Hold out your hands to the cosmic palm, embracing fate with love.

You are a branch of this terrestrial tree upon which you stand.

Soft distant galactic lights gather up the ladder of the spine,

beyond time.

Shake each bone and nerve in accordance with their appropriate stars.

Observe life both from the moment

and the perspective of overflowing emptiness.

I REACH INTO THE ROOTS OF TIME

I reach into the roots of time,

Embodied as my heart extending into the ground.

I am a crouching animal,

Planted into the ground on four fists of gravity.

Clutching my feelings wound in my desires,

Closer to the center of my loving self.

Let the fingers of my fading faeries

follow the trust of light up to the crown

where a greater passion can unite

with greater wisdom.

And resolve the conflicts of desire and knowledge

By widening the ways between us all

We may individually widen the ways within ourselves.

To loosen laces left to knots that could be nets.

ARTIST RISING

Translucent Artist’s Statement

To truely see something is to see through it…

Both with it as a shared vision,

But also beyond it, neither objectifying or worshipping it’s forms.

Where everything disperses into the honesty of the unknown.

Into the clear but unclear radiance with definite source,

But multiple reflections of strange cacophonic harmony.

We involve ourselves in art in order to try,

to bring the greater Vision of our world together by sharing an inner one.

With each being’s perspective only amplifying a mysterious translucent emanation alive in us all.

Something that shares a space with love and wonder,

but also cautious awareness and experimental exploration.

As we all strive to make our world a better place to live.

To focus the joy that helps us to live together as each other.

To live each day with our full awareness and dedication for the sake of each other,

and for the beauteous creation with which we share our being.

Art helps us to create the varied spaces of sublime joy that makes life worth living.

May your world reflect with mine a moment and carry gratitude and love to all the worlds you share.

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Throughout his life, John Kusper has written in hope of a poetic and philosophical translucence, seeking the inspired words capable of diffracting the ultraviolet spectrum of consciousness into perceptible luminescence. Inspired greatly by the open spaces of California, he has written much of his work in communion with the natural environment here. From the woods of Santa Cruz to the hills of Berkeley and Oakland, he has always sought to explore and elaborate the unique unspoken emptiness that emanates into a more meaningful everyday life. He now resides in El Cerrito, CA
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