iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 05/06/2026

Today is the last day of presales for my first book from @finishinglinepress.bsky.social. Imagine the profit if you had bought presale copy of Action Comics #1 for 7 cents. You can save more than that on my first appearance. Buy my poetry. It's an investment. finishinglinepress.com/product/what...

Cover image of What Makes Us Purple beside image of anews story of Action Comics #1 selling for $15m

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 23/05/2026

I’m honored to have 5 featured poems in the newest issue of The Windward Review V25, 2025. Beautiful journal worth supporting (link in comments). If you’d like to see more of my work, my chapbook is available for preorder from @finishinglinepress.bsky.social finishinglinepress.com/product/what...

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 27/03/2026

Need a sample? Here is the first poem of my book:

An image of the first poem of my book. Here is that poem:

OUTGROWING BUKOWSKI

this Bukowski survived for twenty-
five years with nary a coffee stain,
but left alone on the morning table
for a moment it becomes embellished
with Fruit Loops and yogurt by these
little shits who anyway make the reading
of Bukowski impossible with their intractable
glee about things like Fruit Loops

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 14/03/2026

I've been dormant here over the last few months due to health issues, but I just received notice that presales for my first book of poetry have started. I will be sending out opportunities/requests/begging for purchases over the next few weeks. Please forgive the intrusions. But, Hey! Look at this:

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 02/12/2025

You might want to pick up the latest issue of Barstow and Grand. www.barstowandgrand.com/vb9dgwt1le72... It has some great work in it. And it also has a little poem by me.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 01/10/2025

This is not the worst way to spend a beautiful fall afternoon. Purchase copies or access of the newest issue of @inkinthirds.bsky.social at www.magcloud.com/browse/issue... and then check out my poem “Water/Skin” on page 38. Such a beautiful journal, well worth your time.

Photo of me reading the latest issue of ink in thirds in my back yard.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 03/09/2025

My dog may be the only one in the house who is grateful I’ve been forced to lay flat all week due to the sadistic tendencies of my back.

Image of my black and white hound resting his head on my thigh.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 25/08/2025

I'm late to the party on this tweet by @briantylercohen.bsky.social, but here goes: Given what's on our home TV when other people control it, I can't help but think this little vacation is the perfect setup for a cozy mystery in an episode of Agatha Raisin.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 18/08/2025

As I sat down to create the agenda for a faculty meeting and syllabi for classes starting this week, I glanced over at my youthfully optimistic pile of books and journals I intended to read this summer. Alas, these forlorn books must now join past neglected piles, unread.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 12/08/2025

This was my favorite shirt for a long time after I finished. I don’t experience anywhere near the same level of disregard as marginalized colleagues, but I loved wearing this shirt to meetings with college admin. Alas, I outgrew it as I got further into middle age. cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/06...

T-shirt with “Doctor” on front, “(of Philosophy”) on the back.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 05/08/2025

And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.

The prez appearing like a vagrant on the roof of the White House

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 04/08/2025

Not all news makes us despair. Sometimes the news just reminds us that life is absurd. Four people were injured after a tractor-trailer crash left thousands of hot dogs scattered across the highway in York County, Pennsylvania. NBCNews, 8/1/25

Workers cleaning up hot dog spill on highway.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 22/07/2025

I'm in the middle of responding to student emails, planning a class, scheduling medical appointments, reviewing a friend's legal letter, writing poetry, submitting poetry, working on manuscripts, and considering a refinance of the house. My language is all a-Crumbed right now.

Robert Crumb illustration of a man whose mind is going everywhere entitled "Fried Brains"

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 10/07/2025

Another reminder: The second issue of Jackdaw Review is out and it has two poems by an intrepid little poet named me. Here is one of them. Check out the whole shebang in the lovely online journal: online.fliphtml5.com/nnzao/xinr/#...

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 07/07/2025

I posted a link the other day; here’s another one: the new issue of Jackdaw Review is up and I’ve got poems! While all work in the issue is great, my daughter reviewed this one saying it needs a trigger warning. High praise, indeed! Check out the whole issue at online.fliphtml5.com/nnzao/xinr/#...

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 04/07/2025

Happy 4th of July. Words matter.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 10/06/2025

I may need to change my reading list for Fall classes.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 01/06/2025

This looks like the skies being run by a Trump administration FAA.

Image of Trump’s post about deportations showing multiple airplanes in the sky.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 11/05/2025

At Henry Ford College, the Faculty Senate Chair serves as the emcee of commencement and provides the charge to graduates. So, today, since I’m the chair, I was fortunate enough to get to talk to a whole bunch of excited folk. Oh, and I also got to hang out with Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 09/05/2025

This is probably the most key assessment of the new pope's preparation and aptitude for the office:

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 01/05/2025

And 6 more papers to go before I sleep, And 6 more papers to go before I sleep. #grading #robertfrost #robertcrumb

Robert crumb drawing of anxious dude saying it’s just going to get worse.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 30/04/2025

It's the last day of #NationalPoetryMonth. How about an unpublished sort-of-love poem? I'll probably not submit this one--too quirky--but I think it's fun and sometimes poetry should be fun, lest we allow ourselves to just think about the dead or the ravens.

Image of my poem

WHOLESOME THREESOME

If Betty and Veronica were my girlfriends
I’d never need to cover my head with a towel
to avoid temptation, never have to worry
again about schemes—my jalopy out of gas,
a scary haunted house; a too cold night and no heat
to give our stories happy endings. Half of me
with eager Betty; half with stern Veronica;
not much drama, just the three of us
lathering each other with suntan oil followed
with chaste face kisses and the sometime innuendo
of something more, for the rest of our lives,
hoping none of us wises up and says, “This is not real,
there is more to life than sundaes and bikinis.”
Or worse, think in the dark of night, when
all the pages have been turned, “What else
might I have become without the two of you?”

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 29/04/2025

2 days until the end of #NationalPoetryMonth, 3 days until the end of classes, 9 days before the end of the semester. This feels like the right poem for right now.

Image of Joseph Fasano's poem "For a Student Who Used AI to Write a Paper"

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 28/04/2025

It's still #NationalPoetryMonth, so here's a little poem that Delicate Emissions @delicatezine.bsky.social, a cool journal/zine that publishes pint-sized poems, published in February. Check out the whole zine and maybe buy a copy. sites.google.com/view/delicat...

An image of this poem:

OUTGROWING BUKOWSKI

this Bukowski survived for

twenty-five years with nary

a coffee stain, but left alone

on the morning table for just

a moment it is embellished with

fruit loops and yogurt by these

little shits who anyway make

the reading of Bukowski impossible

with their intractable glee

about things like fruit loops

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 26/04/2025

This poem was published 11 years ago after my daughter left for the Peace Corps. I wouldn't write this now-too wordy and maudlin-but #NationalPoetryMonth is a good time to recognize growth in poetry. This same kid is getting PhDed next week and then leaving for her new job at Eastern Kentucky U.

LINES WRITTEN A FEW YARDS AWAY FROM AIRPORT SECURITY

There was once a romance
of leaving. Engine steam,
a tarmac propeller, the bated
whine of horses. The wind would
blow scarves; the rain would blend
with tears. The whistle declaimed the
moment of separation and the moment
impended. We would collapse with grief,
stroking each hair, uncontrolling our sobs,
blowing kisses down corridors while
chasing down stagecoaches to search
frantically through quickening windows
for one last glimpse as if we could
stop one another from leaving.
There used to be romance,
but now there is just gone.
And this seems to hurt even more with
echoes of the unclenched embrace
that throb anew.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 24/04/2025

I love finding forgotten poems on my work computer. Today, during #NationalPoetryMonth, I found this one. I don't remember if I taught it, wrote about it, or just found it savable, but running into a poem I once knew is better than finding a butterscotch at the bottom of Grandmother's purse.

SUPER MARKET
--William E. Stafford, 1948
Every bit of yellow cheese in the market
was wrapped in cellophane.
Every morsel of fruit was,
every sprig of celery, every tomato.
All the prepared meat was in cellophane
with a ribbon around it.
Around the room were clear troughs
made of glass and chromium.
The neon sign rippled through glass.
Everyone in the market had on shined shoes,
pressed clothes with cuffs and pleats.
The men all wore ties, wrapped over
left to right, pulled up snug.
The women all had permanents;
their mouths were coated with rouge.
When you carried your cellophaned food
past the automatic adding machine
and paid legal dollars and cents,
A girl said cellophaned thanks;
the big machine added more dollars.
The bell rang, the line moved, the gate clicked;
and you blinked out into darkness.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 22/04/2025

I shared this poem as my third post on Bluesky, but since it's #NationalPoetryMonth, now is a good time to share it again. This poem was originally published in the inaugural issue of Dogwood Alchemy. Sometimes it's just good to escape the pressures of today and remember the pressures of childhood.

Image of my poem "Super Friends at the Piggly Wiggly"

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 20/04/2025

This is, I imagine, exactly what Jesus sounded like in his first post on social media to his followers after the stone was rolled away and he had reception again. Probably with the hashtag #imbackbitches.

The president’s insane Easter morning post from 4/20/25

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 19/04/2025

Easter Bunny Easter and Orthodox Easter fall on the same date today--though usually they are a couple of weeks apart. Here is an unpublished poem for #NationalPoetryMonth about bells that ring on unexpected days.

Image of my poem "St. Michael's Bells"

ST. MICHAEL’S BELLS

The bells at St Michael's Cathedral bong
on a discordant Orthodox Easter morning,
calling those few who still attend to empty lots
and abundant wafers. The ten-minute cycle pleads
for an hour, approximating a dutiful choir of bongers
to test the patience of gods and neighbors
with speakers bleating, atemporally.

We close our windows,
though we have waited so long for spring.
The whippoorwills might mourn our inattention
as we reach for phones to find out why the church
forgot to turn itself off. The sun is bright, already
with a breeze that would invite more reliably into rebirth
if only we could luxuriate in waking with the birds.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 18/04/2025

Rousseau’s Social Compact; Malcom X’s Black Nationalism; and Nel Nodding’s to talk about Communitarian Ethics today. Students were engaged, thoughtful and excited about the ways this framework could lead to social change.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 17/04/2025

My son is autistic. He creates more love and care in our home and in his dating relationships and has produced more amazing work in jobs and school at 17 than this ultra-rich brain-rotted sack of burned-out meat has ever attempted in all his 71 years. #RFKjr can kiss my neurodivergent ass.

Image of news story about RFK jr's contact information for 43 mistresses on his cellphone. Story includes a photo of RFKjr looking particularly constipated.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 16/04/2025

I was thrilled to have this little poem published in *The Quill* way back in 2014. #NationalPoetryMonth seems like a good time to resurrect the poem. The journal provided space for writers from Northwest Ohio (among others) to show that we had things to say. Support your local writing communities!

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 15/04/2025

It's the middle of #NationalPoetryMonth . To commemorate the day @rattlepoetry.bsky.social was kind enough to tell me I lost the chapbook contest. Or maybe they said I didn't win. Or maybe that things are good, but other things are gooder. In other news, I also did not win the Powerball last night.

Image of the poem More Money than God by Richard Michelson

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 14/04/2025

On a day during #NationalPoetryMonth when the US president tells another dictator that he hopes to deport US citizens and that the dictator should build more prison camps, I worry that I have not done enough to resist and that this is all somehow my fault. Mary Oliver offers reminders.

An image of Mary Oliver's poem "Wild Geese"

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 13/04/2025

It's Adoption Day and it's #NationalPoetryMonth. Proud dad poems are uncommon--what's poetic about good dads and good daughters?--so, here's another unpublished poem of mine. Happy Adoption Day, J. Though my cheers may be quieter in your spaces than your brothers', they are no less intense.

Image of this poem
WARRIOR DAUGHTER

I don’t get to howl,
beat my chest,
and prowl the ground
like a poppa gorilla

when my daughter
presents a brilliant paper
at an academic conference
or publishes a fine essay

the way I do when
her brothers pin
other teenage boys
with strength, will, luck,

but you must know
I raise my fists
gleefully in my head
and whisper brags

to whomever will listen
that she is Athena,
hoisting her shield,
bloodied, triumphant.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 12/04/2025

I don't like posting new poems on social media because I don't want publishers to consider them published (which is less likely today than it used to be), but it is Easter weekend during #NationalPoetryMonth and we forgot all about Easter because we lost faith in such things, so I decided to write.

Image of the following poem:

MID-APRIL

On Easter Sunday, we tied our ties tight
and shined our shoes and stiffened our hair
all while watching the clock to make sure we
were ready in forty minutes, twenty minutes,
five minutes to avoid the roar of “I’m in the car”
which warned we would sit under the glare of Dad
in the rearview mirror before we had to feel
the glare of the preacher from the pulpit as we
giggled about things like ties and chiffon and bows
that were undone as easily as our solemnity.

There was a price to be paid, this blessed day,
for the lamb or ham, the carrots and potatoes,
for chocolate and marshmallow, for being allowed
to run through the yard looking for eggs, our ties
and bows laid carefully on the back of Granddaddy’s
recliner, our best shoes at the door, so we could
scream and twirl without fear of condemning eyes
or our mothers’ pleading prayers for their salvation

especially after we had been told at sunrise morning
there was freedom in the blood of the lamb, the flesh
of the savior for whom we performed our rituals,
both cruel and playful, in remembrance of belief,
the cost of our sins, the way he paid, but was raised
again, even for the doubters, so we might renew
our faith in what he told us, that all would be better
if joy became our tender.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 10/04/2025

I'm tired; you're tired. I'm sometimes sick; you're in pain. I'm stressed; you're sometimes anxious. The fact that #NationalPoetryMonth is happening at a time of chaos is a salve. A little poem for today by I poet I did not know I wanted to know. and a link to the original: poets.org/poem/duplex-...

Image of the poem "Duplex for the Sick & Tired" by Kay Ulanday Barrett.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 08/04/2025

On the 8th day of #NationalPoetryMonth, here is a poem about an opossum. I was so thrilled to have this included in *High Rise: Brutalist Poetry* published by @brokenspinearts.bsky.social. Buy the collection (Amazon: bit.ly/3G0ZGik); it's doing important work on realist and sensory poetics as form.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 06/04/2025

Today, a non-politically oriented poem for #NationalPoetryMonth. This one was published in the February 2025 edition of Delicate Emissions, a wonderful zine of short-form poetry. Check them out online, but also consider purchasing the cool paper zine. @delicatezine.bsky.social

Image of the following poem:

AH, LOVE

by Michael Hill

The seaweed is loud tonight.

Your bowl is full, the seaweed dry

And salty; your tea is especially rank.

It steeps and steams; and you peer into the air

Vacant and vast, as you chew, crunch, chew.

Let us be true, though dank the afternoon fare!

From the long-simmering wetness of your cup

the masticated bits of green in your teeth.

Listen! you chear the grating champ

Of molars meeting the still dry pieces;

You find and grind, suck and swallow,

Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring

The eternal note of sadness in.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 06/04/2025

I’ve seen their rallies. No thanks.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 05/04/2025

I am unable to march today and I feel guilty. I have marched in other marches in other decades and so maybe it's ok for others to march for me today. Thank you to all who are out there. Now, here's a little poem on #HandsOff day during #NationalPoetryMonth

Image of a poem:

HANDS OFF

When you are woken
by someone with too
bold hands poking
into you restless sleep,
you might find yourself
surprised—woke—angry
and suddenly feel the self
in motion discovering
how real it feels
to sit up,
scared and alert
to announce,
I will sleep no more.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 04/04/2025

I've decided that for #nationalpoetrymonth, anything I want to say in a social media screed can probably better said through #poetry:

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 03/04/2025

I'm not sure what is going to happen to my pension--I've never understood the stock market either as an economic engine or as a pasttime--but poetry seems to be holding its value. Excerpt from Kahlil Gibran. #nationalpoetrymonth

First stanza of Gibran's "On Buying and Selling"

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 02/04/2025

It's #nationalpoetrymonth so here is a poem about Ikea and Kurt Cobain. I was fortunate enough to have this one published in the inaugural issue of a beautiful journal named Dogwood Alchemy last year.

Image of my poem "Ikea, Again" from Dogwood Alchemy, vol 1

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 24/03/2025

In an era of Generative AI, social media, propaganda untethered from ethics, religious extremism, and the corruption of public institutions, we may be entering into a new Dark Ages where oligarchy and theocracy control meaning while some fight to preserve truth and most fight just to survive.

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 13/03/2025

Pensions are earned salaries deferred until retirement. Why is this so hard to understand? It sucks that pensions are almost extinct, but that doesn’t negate the fact that they were negotiated, earned, and planned for. Don’t fight workers—fight management and oligarchs.

I don't think enough is said about how so much of our current economic and social malaise is directly and indirectly attributable to the indescribably incredible gold plated pensions of mediocre boomers who only worked for 30 years

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 04/03/2025

#RedforEd day. As I explained to my students, educators are calling a code red on threats to the future of education in this country. Listen, take action, #ProtectOurKids. The threats to teaching, learning, mobility, and citizenship are real. @aftunion.bsky.social

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Michael Hill @ccprof.bsky.social · 04/03/2025

The D+student-in-chief released this ridiculous statement of fake policy last night amounting to toddler-level extortion. The problem is many school admins and Boards are at similar developmental levels and may overreact to comply. #teachresistance #freedomofspeech #students @aftunion.bsky.social

Trump statement threatening funding for schools that allow protests.

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