Tag Archives: Gil Hoy

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 be appearing, most recently in Mobius, Tipton Poetry Journal, Chiron Review, MisfitMagazine, The New Verse News, The Penmen Review and One Sentence Poems.


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 ice
and silently disappear.

Gil Hoy tries cases before juries of his peers in Boston, Massachusetts and searches for winning poems in his legal arguments.

Gil Hoy


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

brothers and sisters.

Gil Hoy‘s poems are like ….

Gil Hoy

Buffalo Bill’s

Buffalo Bill’s


who now

rides a smooth, black and white

energy-saving Tesla

that accelerates onetwothreefourfivesix justlikethat


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 around in their new Tesla in Palo Alto.



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 cold
damp cell—

while it is still dark outside,
and my wife is still sleeping.

Gil Hoy is a Boston poet and trial lawyer who likes to write poems about little things that his wife didn’t do that kept him out of trouble.



Gil Hoy


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.