gershon hepner Poems

When Sigmund Freud is introduced to
Virginia Woolf he gives her a narcissus.
He means that, narcissistic, she is used to
receiving what this flowery giver misses,
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Rameau lets us hear the smile
of Voltaire, let me emulate
his talent, trying to beguile
my music mistress and my mate.
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Embrace uncertainty, and go out on a limb:
say, “This might be, ” more often than “This is.”
Explore the canyon that lies far below the rim,
without demanding answers in life’s quiz.
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SENSE OF SOUND

In Plato’s time fools used to say
there are no rules for music that you play.
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TUNNELS WITHOUT LIGHT


On a rope that's lower than my hip
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Linda’s response to this poem:

Nice to know, thanks mate so very much,
You really have the touchy feely touch.
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The novelist’s art can compel our beliefs,
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Are You There?


Lovers wish to make it known
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Who is the puzzled, turbaned man who gazes
into the distance from a canvas on the wall?
He’s Rembrandt, and it seems that it amazes
the artist to be taken for St. Paul.
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Come quick, baby, and remind me
where I once began and show me
places where you think you find me,
for it’s very clear you know me
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