Lives in Los Angeles with 2 guys, a cat, a tortoise and some koi. more »
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Linda Hepner Poems
The apple cart came rumbling down the street Pushed by the apple man who’d piled it high
Allium, Peeling Onions
Peeling onions with my naked nails Oh how close I come to paring off my parchment skin And on it I shall write: if all else fails This you shall send to those I’ve harbored, allies, foe and kin:
Damp My Desire?
Are you my vampire? That is what he said. I’ll just describe it. I was on my bed Soaking the sun and reading ‘Life and Fate’ Vasili Grossman wrote app. ’38,
Everyman, Woman, for Ernestine Northover
God’s knife cuts deeply into the shadowed valley And let’s us fall there. Then we scramble up And trudge along, bearing our earthly goods.
An Empty Ear is Eden
Those little innuendoes first just niggle, then they make us thirst for something.... what we can't explain until some insight gives it name
ADJUSTMENT, a poem for pregnancy #2
Adjustment My children have been words. Words were children. Phrases fat and thin that lined the fragile field.
A Tale of Two Dominions
Lady moon you are a lamp of darkness, You cast your shadow on the sunlit earth Eclipsing spirit, stunting growth, a furnace Of icy coals destroying heart and hearth.
I like to take a catnap now and then For instance on a Sabbath afternoon When book in hand I lie down in the den A glass of tea, some honey and a spoon
Babel, a Sonnet
Oh happy he who in his ignorance Can spend his busy days in fruitfulness, Who has no third eye for the clues of chance And builds a scaffold for his happiness.
Bring back my email, Lordy, bring it back. I never meant to send it, I never meant to press
One talks, the other listens; One runs, the other dreams; Each perfect body glistens One quarter from my genes.
Crows, Five Months after 9.11, reread On...
Bad press, that’s what we got, bad press, Caught by our color, black we are, caught caught,
Pallid you may be; Athena, Pallas, Was wise too, pale because she knew too much About her lover's quite elusive phallus Whenever she came near and wished to touch.
I’m walkin’ through the desert Sand gets in your toes
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The apple cart came rumbling down the street
Pushed by the apple man who’d piled it high
With golden ruddies, juicy firm and sweet,
Their happy nipples pointing at the sky.
We saw the pyramid he’d built with care,
Picking each fruit and placing it so that
Not one pure skin was bruised, the perfect fare
Presented like a treasure on which sat
A crown of apple leaves and painted sign:
“Picked this very morning by my hand! ”
He meant to say “These apples are all mine
So buy them dearly from my apple stand.”
Around the market women push and scrum, ...