gershon hepner Poems

Restoring order
after anarchy of dreams
requires a warder
to confine all stupid schemes
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With amorous abandon
he traveled to Croydon,
abandoning Hendon,
to find him a hoyden.
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Uptown, downtown, I love girls,
but mostly I stick to the mid.
I can’t afford for up ones pearls,
and down ones hate that I’m a yid,
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Monogamy’s monotony,
more tedious than botany,
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Memories, like botany,
while good for the ecology
if uttered with monotony
require an apology.
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As exciting as breaking the rules is to bend them:
when we do so we don’t claim we’re aiming to end them,
convincing ourselves that we needn’t observe them
once we’ve found legal loopholes, and think we deserve them.
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Do you do it every day,
or just at night time get your way?
Do you do it when it’s light,
or wait until it’s dark at night?
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No optical illusion, two
blue eyes are what I love in you;
your eyes alone provide transfusion
to my own sight, without illusion.
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Son of Tantalus, grandson of Zeus,
Pelops by his father once was served
as stew to all the gods––a cruel abuse;
no god should be an entrée, or hors d’oeuvred.
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With startled lips Costanza gasps,
and gives Bernini looks that, feral,
explain the knife his servant grasps,
commanded to cause her great peril
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