One Sentence Poems

Gil Hoy Shopping at 500 Stalls in Market 28, Downtown Cancun When you’re anti-social, with a dynamic, welcoming, alluring wife who delights in shopping, it’s like a Stephen King novel, in halogen lights, with one million bulbs. Gil Hoy is a Boston poet who studied poetry at Boston University. Hoy’s poetry has appeared, or will […]

Gil Hoy Animal Aptitudes No disrespect intended to me or the others, but it’s man himself I fear most. Gil Hoy is a Boston poet and trial lawyer who searches for winning poems in his legal arguments.  

Gil Hoy Threw It Away Years Ago I’ve no use for a stainless steel lightweight, corrosive resistant contraption that encumbers my wrist and can’t tell me anything useful anyway: Like when my kids might grow up, my heart will stop beating or the last polar bear will step off the last piece of melting sea […]

Gil Hoy Abstinence Before waking sleeping giant ghosts living deep inside you, living deep inside your most faraway dreams, be sure you first know your universe to its core. Gil Hoy is a Boston poet and trial lawyer.

Gil Hoy Simile Rest in peace defunct T.  Rex, mythical dinosaur king with erector set jaws, your ecological footprint so sizeable that the earth couldn’t support you— like the carbon footprint of the Futtsu Thermal Power Station, its parents grandparents brothers and sisters. Gil Hoy‘s poems are like ….

Gil Hoy Buffalo Bill’s Buffalo Bill’s alive who now rides a smooth, black and white energy-saving Tesla that accelerates onetwothreefourfivesix justlikethat Jesus I miss my watersmooth-silver stallion but what i want to know is how do you like your Pontiac now Mister Death. Gil Hoy writes poems in Boston while his daughter and son-in-law drive […]

Gil Hoy Man’s Best Friend If she had only gotten up to walk the barking dog on that early pitch-black morning, then I would have had time to check my tax return, would have caught my mistake, wouldn’t have been audited, wouldn’t have had to tell that little white lie, wouldn’t be sitting in this […]

Gil Hoy Englishmen Have you been to the Protestant cemetery in Rome and seen Keats’s cats— so many cats— skating on a watery grave, drinking the writ water, growing stronger? Gil Hoy writes poems in Boston, Massachusetts and neighboring environs, reads Elizabeth Bishop and John Keats, and tries cases before juries of his peers.