Hello, I am G.M.H. Thompson. I have been published in a number of different publications that few people have read or even heard of. I have a chapbook out entitled Yard Sale at the Devil’s Petting Zoo that perhaps 30 people have leafed through. I was nominated for a Pushcart once, but didn’t win it.

I was born in Cleveland, Ohio. When I was eight, I moved with my family to St. Louis, Missouri. I then received my Bachelor’s at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign where I learned little. Then I learned how to play guitar in empty rooms in St. Louis. I currently teach English in Hà Nội, but come August, I will be teaching in Beijing, if all goes right.

I enjoy the poetry of Shakespeare, Eliot, Pound, Plath, Tennyson, & many, many others. I also enjoy music, especially rock ‘n’ roll. I myself play music and have written a number of songs and albums that no one has listened to. Yet I enjoy playing music live, and have traveled to a few different countries to do so, even playing a few sets in small bars in Tokyo.

Sunshine Skeleton

He’s Sunshine Skeleton— he’s written five albums,—
of course, so far, he’s only recorded one,
but one of these days, he’ll get around to all of them;—
all of his songs sound like third-grade Brian Wilson
& he thinks he’s a genius ‘cause he knows three chords
& his poetry reads like A.I. Wordsworth
& no one has the heart to tell him it’s trash
& he used to be an artist when he was about ten.

If you give Sunshine Skeleton a cookie,
he’s going to ask you to listen to his album,
& when you’ve listened to his album,
he’ll ask you to book a show with him,
& after you’re finished playing the show with him,
he’ll probably ask you to find him a girlfriend . . .

The Novelist

She’s a novelist— she’s written novels,
or at least that’s what she tells everyone,
yet no one has actually seen these grails.

She tried to convince me that being born
in August was dramatically different
than being born in July or April.

Some months later, at my birthday party,
her & her friends showed up high as a kite
& she claimed that I gave evil advice
to a person I’ve talked to maybe twice;—
I was so dumbfounded, I just said “What?!?”

The last time I saw her, she smiled weirdly
& declared that I was in her novels,
“Yes, you play a large role in my third book.”

An Unusual Man

He’s an unusual man— he has visions
in the middle of the day, with his eyes open—
he saw a cloud shaped like a serpent descend from the sky,
& he writes about a blind green woman who talks with smells.
He won’t cross the street if he sees a black cat,
& he lives all alone in a house that seems alive
in some way, strange orange light bleeds from its basement,
the kind of light that makes you wonder what’s down there.
One night, we went driving in his car for ice cream
& we saw a black cat cross the road, so we turned around,
& then we pulled over & he looked at me & he said,
“I think they’ve found out— I think they’re coming for me,”
so I said, “What are you talking about?” & he turned white
& tensely said, “Nothing. Never tell this to anyone.”