gershon hepner Poems

My favorite photo, for today
at least, is one in which the nose
of Zachary, my son, the groom, looks fey,
because his nose is luminose.
...

Women tend to be more proud
than men, who are lot more lusty;
the things both sexes aren’t allowed
both do. My memory is rusty
...

The future perfect equals ablative that’s absolute,
I don’t know what that means but it is surely aphoristic,
the sort of thing I say that many people think is cute
which I abhor as much as being thought of as a mystic.
...

In China they’d call geishas “sing-song girls, ”
their value estimated above pearls;
Solomon praised women without pallor,
black the sign of beauty that’s not valor.
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Princess Di, the saint of kitsch,
public dirty-washing rinser,
seemingly has found her niche,
threatening the House of Windsor,
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The death she died was meretricious,
while seated in a limo.
She looked delightful and delicious,
but really was a bimbo
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She lived by publicity, died when she tried
to evade the photographers’ cameras;
narcissistic princesses aren’t able to hide
when amorous, if they are glamorous.
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The hate that dare not speak its name,
the hate that Muslims feel for Jews,
has now become the very same
that Nazis demonstrated––views
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Although he tried, he couldn’t make the leap
of unfaith, since it gave him less relief
when wading in its waters, hardly deep,
he found, as those he swam in with belief.
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Some believe that they’ve been put in charge
of all the shows that God’s supposed to run.
Leonard Cohen doesn’t, but a large
proportion of us think we are the one
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