gershon hepner Poems

Demanding either ahs or chuckles,
I am an artist who swashbuckles,
performing before ears that hear,
and eyes that read, what is most dear
...

She goest beyond where heavens are,
or so she says when falling
into my arms, when she’s not far
from voices that are calling
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Nessun dorma
watching Norma
Audience snoring:
Wagner boring.
...

How beautiful it is,
how easily it can be broken,
far more them merely phys-
iological once it has woken.
...

Boredom’s a corrosive force
from which aggression may escape,
not only fighting wars, of course,
when it can even lead to rape,
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A hint of clove and orange peel
and even cedar, maybe,
are some aromas in the meal
I'm giving to my baby,
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Azriel of Gerona taught
that if you look beyond the yesh
which is the aught you’ll find the naught,
the spirit that’s behind the flesh,
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“Oh, don’t you feel my leg, ” she said,
she wanted me to beg.
I wasn’t asking from her head,
so I decided I would egg
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The threads that join us sometimes met-
amorphose into chains, the sort
of metamorphosis we ought
to think of every time we let
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Doting, jealous, self-abasing, Swann,
infatuated by Odette, was chasing
an image Botticelli painted on
the Sistine Chapel walls. While disgracing
...