gershon hepner Poems

What would the world be once bereft
of wet and wildness, ? Hopkins asked.
The answer is: it would be left
without the beauty that God tasked
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Infidelity is far more popular
that baseball, barbecues or ball-room dancing,
for changing partners when you're being copular
apparently can be far more entrancing
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Sad and empty, having finished
something long, I now report
I don’t think I’ll feel diminished
if I now write something short.
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Privacy can suffocate
but company can make me wince,
so when I want to celebrate
I try politely to dropp hints
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Alive enough to spawn and die
we are like salmon without gills,
and breathe our last beneath a sky
polluted by satanic mills.
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Images imagined and recalled
rain on the masterpoet’s mind like mist
that lubricates the lips that have enthralled
him in the past, but he has never kissed.
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Dependence leads to emulation,
but sadly creativity
demands thereafter separation,
with hypersensitivity
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Yet Jews kept faith with crabbed rites,
wrote Updike, close to death, recalling
the words the poet David writes,
which are to dying men enthralling.
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My body’s Braille, but far less famous
than that attributed to Seamus.
I mean the body of my work,
that like a confidential clerk
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Secrets can transform
a friendship into love,
heating what is warm,
to levels far above
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