Greg Hill

Greg-Hill

BIO

Greg Hill is a writer and voice over talent in West Hartford, Connecticut (United States). He has an MFA from Vermont of College of Fine Arts. His poems have appeared recently in Black Heart Magazine; Verse Wisconsin; and Queen Mob’s Teahouse. His poems are not inspired by working a desk job in some media company’s web department.

 

American Spring

At the dinner table, just as you close your mouth around
a heaping forkful of mashed potatoes and a few stray peas,
your teenage daughter informs you that someone will be here
in just a few minutes—a boy, she reveals, if you must know—
to drive her and a few other friends to someone else’s house.
Of course there are myriad questions you suddenly need to ask
after you have processed the news and swallowed the potatoes,
because you have never had this conversation before, not with her,
and not with your husband across the table, whose shocked eyes
reflect the loss of calm from your own face.
The casual conversations you had at night in your bedroom
prove insufficient when it comes to dealing with the reality
of a teenage daughter, who makes it her job to push back now,
who knows how to manipulate and pry, who tears opens wounds
when she slams her bedroom door in your face.
You can tell her no, you can say you’re not ready, or she isn’t,
or she has given you too little time to confirm certain details,
and tonight she will storm upstairs protesting your unjust oppression.
But she is growing up, clawing for her piece of independence,
and someday the world will be run by teenage girls and by boys
with driver’s licenses, and not by you, nor your husband,
nor by the parents of your daughter’s friends, who sit with you
on sidelines at lacrosse games and talk with tones of resignation
about the end of American dominance in the global economy.

.
today

are you ready to start
something tomorrow is so distant
got nothing on today
is when it happens today
the sit-in turns stand-still turns
riot turns camera eyes
turn the world tomorrow’s promise
means nothing but today
are you ready to start
over are you ready to begin
the human mind has such capacity
for thought change human love
conquer your fears about tomorrow
never coming always cowering in
distant myth colliding with sunlight
shines today die today live today
remember today is when we came
over the wall together breathed orange
smoke together we shape today
is the day today are you ready to start
forgetting anything tomorrow but the flint
smell of the taste of the sight of the
today we carry back the bodies of friends
who lived today lived for today lived for us
died for us today meant everything
means more has in its heart the fire of
youth the passion of dirty art the dirt
of the artisan politik feral dogs
today order is an all thing all things
decay embrace the new me the new you
and I shall see what you see from atop
the wall where no flags fly
the breech dear friend dear member of
today are you ready to continue
are you ready to

.
Bites Into An Apple And Says

when we say
we want to be rich
we mean
we want to feel rich

to have enough
of another human
beneath our thumb
to feel
the exquisite

to be able to get away
with
whatever
on camera

we’ll put down our pitchforks
when technology’s next device launches
when corporations advertise their small concessions
when we’re shown how to fight each other
for these scraps

and if we’re placated
just enough
we’ll stop trying
to be rich

and we’ll feel
rich

and we’ll be
dead

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