| Multilegged Milliped by Gershon Hepner |
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| by Gershon Hepner |
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Gershon Hepner (
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) is America's news poet, author of seventy thousand (you heard right!) poems on the margins of comments of interest to him, culled from our ever-growing media. His wide interests are expressed in extraordinarily thoughtful, witty, and skilful verse. He is by no means naive: had he not chosen poetry forms to express himself he would be a celebrated media personality. The following poem is a reply to my note below where I despair of ever keeping up with him. Andrei Codrescu Nota Bene: You didn't hear right. It's ten thousand poems, as 10,179 below the below illustrates MULTILEGGED MILLIPED Multilegged milliped, brain and computer prove he is not yet dead. Penelope suitor, he thinks that his rival may be, so he’s crawling, and thinks his survival depends on his trawlin’ for verses he gives her each day. Though she trashes each one he forgives her, and straightaway dashes another one off, to be more millipedic, and tell her he’d love to be far less ascetic. Break a leg, she won’t answer, not wishing him luck, regarding as cancer his poems, poor schmuck. It’s hard to envelope, he learns with distress, the lovely Penelope, millipedless. A response to Andrei Codrescu’s response to my poem “Life is Not”: Gershon, my humble sliced-thin-as-cheese-in-a-family-of-13 time does not allow me to keep pace with your otherwise mailings and poems. Publish your 70,000 works as a Chronicle of Our Days on the internet in a site all your own, I think that people will read you with pleasure. I'm merely human, you're a multilegged milliped with a computer brain. Cheers, Andrei To which Gershon Hepner at This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it re-responded: Thanks so much. Actually it's 10,000, not 70,000, as this poem indicates. Any chance of putting email address on any of my poems you may choose to publish on corpse.org, in case you have a fatal relapse? ONLY TEN THOUSAND ARABESQUES When you think of arabesques you should think of Andrei, the Codrescu who with poetic squirls and squiggles induces in his readers giggles. In this poem I will link my squiggles with Codrescu’s ink, and squeeze myself between his squirls to please poetic boys and girls. Indeed I suffer graphomania, although I am not from Romania, in Leipzig born, but educated in Britain, and from there translated across the ocean and the Rockies, jabbering like jabberwockies, while for publishers still waiting, cool and Californicating. Andrei’s published me on corpse dot org, while woofing through my warps, ten thousand, only I’m afraid. Who cares? Since I’m not getting paid, accept my squiggles just like Andrei’s, and then, if you should understand, raise most loud objections to high heaven till they have multiplied by seven.5/12/12 #10179 |
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