milieu

By Jay Green

In this sharply tuned collection, the poems are varied in form, mostly strong, and very rhythmic. These poems beg to be heard, as well as read. Despite the brutal observations close to Green's heart, the collection is a patriotic book woven through with hope for a better United States. Jay Green is a promising up-and-coming talent in contemporar

• Language: English
• Publisher: puzzledroads
• Release date: Aug 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737349242

Jay Green

Jay Green is professor of history at Covenant College.

Book preview

class photo

Little black child come stand by me.

Little white child come stand by me.

Little Mexican child come stand by me.

Won’t you pose? Won’t you pose?

Little Indian child come stand by me.

Little Asian child come stand by me. 

Little Native child come stand by me.

Now tell that little white child to take 

two steps back.

Little Mexican child, put a smile on your face. 

Little Indian child, put a smile on your face. 

Little Native child, put a smile on your face.

Why is half the class Asian? 

Dismiss them for the day. 

Little Native child, stand tall by me. 

Little Mexican child, stand tall by me.

Little Indian child, stand tall by me.

Little black child, it’s fine if you slouch.

We acknowledge the disparities.

It's ok if you frown. 

You can even get your pictures at a 

half-off discount.

Won’t you pose? Won’t you pose?

isms

This nation of mine is manifested through expansionism.

Illustrious it’s come to be, but now we bout with atavism. 

An L in the neck allows a gaze up at American skyscrapers. 

Symbols of abundance funded by the toils of capitalism.

But ground level reveals a body nesting on the sidewalk of its nation. 

Certain politicians say the gap between the two can be mended by socialism. 

Opioid-laced language espousing Free this! Equal that!

What about the costs? beg the voices of conservatism.

Two-legged beasts char the air with oral exhaust. 

Blue and red collars detail American tribalism. 

Fanning this U.S. flag in safe spaces likens me to a terrorist.

How far gone are we if fellow citizens renounce patriotism?

11/17/20: Jay writes a poem after the year left him politicized. 

What to make of the future if this divide goes unmended? A watershed, a cataclysm.

broken

Me, America.

With serrated opinions. 

Stench of cigarettes. 

Me, with dirt crammed under nails. 

Me, eyes twitching in public.

Me, America. 

Long, oily hair lays unkempt.

A fuse-like temper. 

Me, chaining swear words and slurs

together in revelry. 

Me, competitor. 

Me, the nocturnal gamer.

Me, the champion. 

Me, banned for heinous comments. 

Sheep always play the victim. 

Me, mouth of wisdom.

Me, brilliant college dropout. 

Me, masturbating

because dumb broads won’t touch me. 

Me, clenching teeth at climax. 

Me, America.

Me, chatroom