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.

The Witch

She’s a witch;— she openly admits it;

she’s proud of it even & brags about

how she summons demons to serve her will.



I ask her doesn’t she think these beings

have a price that must be paid for their help—



she doesn’t think so; she thinks they exist

simply to be used for free by any

who know the spells that unlock their power.



One night, her & her boyfriend lit incense

& watched the smoke trail vaguely shift this way

then that with the house’s shifting air flows.



She told me in hushed breath that this in fact

was some entity’s communication

& asked me to lightly tap the incense.

His Latest Model

She's his latest model— she doesn't know about

his other models, the hundreds that came before,

some of whom he sees on the sly from time to time,

after a show when she's at home, waiting for him.



She looks just like Jasmine from Disney's Aladdin—

she flirts with other men when going out with him—

I saw her flirting with Candy Poorhouse, a fool

who hits on every girl & has no job or skills,



& I asked her, “Did your mother teach you nothing?

“Don't you know you should avoid worthless flies & cads?

“Don't you know he's only thinking about one thing?”



She stared at me, shocked that I should find this shocking.

Later, after she broke up with him, obscenely

he asked if I wanted to be set up with her.

Girl from a Northern City

In a dive-bar, she said she was from a northern city—

she said she'd soon return to there—  of course, that wasn't so,

but I didn't know that—  she was there with some scraggly guy— :

short, beady eyes, a homeless man's beard, dirty, unemployed;—

for karaoke, she sang The Kinks' “Well Respected Man”

& though I tried not to, I couldn't help but sing along.



The next time I saw her, she was dating my friend, John Pulse,—

the sort of soldier who only fights when the fight is fixed,

& they broke up, got back together, & broke up again;

months after, he told me he never thought it'd be so hard,—



& then she really did return to that northern city

& dated a glacial, mysterious man from Russia

who left her for Paris, & she drove down & there were tears.

I said, “There, there,” & gave her CDs for her drive back north.