gershon hepner Poems

Love when unfulfilled
is the most romantic
form. When love’s fulfilled
it won’t drive you as frantic
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Some people once to Martin Luther turned
and asked: “What would you do, sir, if you learned
the world would end tomorrow? ” to which he
replied: “Good question. Plant an apple tree.
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Lacy tights on lovely legs
are joys for which this poet begs.
Applied together with high heels,
they call to me with sex appeals,
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Music must have wings and float:
ignore all that it signifies,
for the importance of each note
should be apparent when it flies.
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Men and women all alone within a room,
are the subjects whom painter Francis Bacon
portrays in spaces he’s transformed from womb to tomb,
isolated, and disturbed, alone, forsaken.
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Babylon fell as the writing predicted
in the midst of the feast of Belshazzar.
Such prophesies rarely can be interdicted,
though few can have sounded much crasser
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Paragliding with huge Californian condors,
our passion is so high no cloud can dim it,
and when we take the open road in hybrid Hondas
we feel there is no highway code and no speed limit.
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Are you the man who pulled the trigger at
the top of Bethel's Bab-ilani’s ziggurat?
If so, pray tell, why are the heathens ragin'
today in Arabic as in Akkadian
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If only there were some slight chance
of our transforming into dance
our song––our song then into laughter,
and laughter into what comes after:
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Narratives we tell to show
who we believe we are deceive
the listeners who are forced to go
with that one version they receive,
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