gershon hepner Poems

“When I grow up I want to be
a foreigner, ” declared the Chinese boy;
sound like the Jew who tries to flee
his ancient roots and tries to be a goy.
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Martinis, cosmos, four-inch heeled Manolos,
no longer catch our fancy, it’s a pity;
and for four women who contended nolos
become the pleas. There’s still sex in the city,
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Macho sometimes, sometimes melismatic,
I vary my technique depending on
the babes I am pursuing, and get vatic
before I take them to my pantheon,
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Herbert, reading Livy against Livy,
understood that facts aren’t not what is recorded.
the reason why the future’s always iffy
is that the past becomes in time disordered.
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I plan to greet the hello-goodbye cloud
with joy, and not regret the temporary
occlusion of the sun it will enshroud,
for darkness will be only momentary.
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Remnant wisp of fragrance,
crushed blossom, broken jade,
trampled leaf, like vagrants
surviving, I evade,
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What’s the difference between eggs and mirrors?
They both can crack, and when you look at them
you like to see the sunny side, not errors
with an image that you must condemn.
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Only Connect

A house with many views can never be
an empty nest so long as we connect
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Taming and humiliating
nature, Versailles’ gardens represent
a challenge for a maid-in-waiting
who paid them the enormous compliment
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PREDATOR OR PREY


While nuzzling at raw flesh like shoals of feral fish
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