gershon hepner Poems

Taking off his plush new cloak,
he placed it on a plushy place,
to make sure that it wouldn’t soak
the Queen, who said to him: “What grace
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Like daytime that appears less lively
than the night which is more brightly colored,
according to Van Gogh, a girl who's wifely,
appearing unattractive to a dullard,
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Dance Hall in Arles and Night Café
reject and celebrate the dark,
while Starry Night
across the Rhone refutes the day,
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On Gauguin's chair, a candle and some books
replace the artist whom he can't recapture.
His absence fills the far from empty nooks
and crannies of his mind, recalling rapture
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A BIRD PURSUES A BEE
A bird pursues a bee and kisses her,
flight of fancy by Miró. Unprimed
the canvas kisses are a cat whose purr
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Within a modern Miró minute is
a Dutch interior, man with lute. The tinnitus
disturbs a lovely viewer in the crowd,
who wonders why the world seems always loud.
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Some chicken, Churchill said, some neck.
It seemed that Britain’s had been wrung,
and after death no chickens peck,
but Britain did, though Hitler flung
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“Does it have a meaning? ”
they ask. He answers them with gall.
“I hope it doesn’t, but it will occur again,
and you will see once more what happened then,
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Mark my words, in case you’re in the dark
about a Jewish artist, known as Marc.
Originally the name was Moishe, but
the change would open doors once shut
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You can’t do kabbalah until
you do your Bible and the Talmud first,
but if of it you get your fill
before you are completely versed
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