gershon hepner Poems

Astronomers once wrote about what they could see,
but now explore the regions where there is no light,
like poets challenged by invisibility,
who relish deepest dark defining total night.
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She’s Henri-Alexandre-Georges’,
Regnault the artist, and she’s gorgeous.
Her lips curve with a sexy smile,
and clearly sign: “Stay here awhile.”
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Two Jerusalems there are,
one above and one below;
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Between darkness and dreams
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Life is short: get a divorce.
Makee whoopee, it is rather silly
to always back the selfsame horse—
be bold, and find another filly!
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Never to avert your eyes!
That’s what it means
to be an artist, but
you have to keep them shut
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Do not think, “What can I learn
from other writers? ” Let the Muse
top thoughts of others you must turn,
transforming them as you transfuse
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In that dark place where I dwell
there are wounds that never heal;
please don’t tell me that you feel
my pain, for no one goes to hell
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For Joseph Schildkraut

Miró, Miró, on the wall,
who's the fairest of them all?
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Do objects have the right to many lovers?
The law books tell us mortal men should stick
to one inamorata between covers;
to women they give but a single pick
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