Avery H. Thompson

Avery H. Thompson

Avery H. Thompson is an American poet and audio producer. When not in Texas pursuing his MFA in Poetry at Texas State, he’s likely in Greece. His work may be seen and heard at AveryHThompson.com

Becoming a Believer

The locals, believers of gods, drink Tsipouro long into the night
And brag to me about how lucky they were to be born here
The most beautiful place in the world, they say
Though few of them have ever been anywhere else
Look at this place, the old fisherman says to me
Waving his sunburned forearms toward the sea
Tell me, the shepherd asks, through his boozy breath
Where else do the stars shine so bright
That you can close your eyes and still see them?
Try it
, they insist, sensing my skepticism
Close your eyes and look up at the sky
And wanting to believe, as these men do, in obvious untruths
I take another sip, reveling in the burn
Then tilt my head back to the star-filled sky
Do you see them? They ask, after I close my eyes
                     Do you still see the stars?
And before I can lie, one of them (I suspect the carpenter)
Punches me in the nuts, and I find myself bowing at a new altar
Reborn as a witness to the glorious wonder of this world


The German dad rises with precision at 6:30
Which is the same time he wakes in Frankfurt
At least here, on vacation, he doesn’t put on a suit
Only slips into some swim trunks and t-shirt
Before charging through the hotel
Coffee in one hand, armful of towels in the other
To stake his claim on the best beach chairs
All day, no matter where his family may be
Whether in their room, at a taverna
Or taking a scenic drive down the coast
Their towels remain on those chairs
Boldly fluttering in the summer breeze
Waving like the flags of some fierce new nation
Whose colors are green, and white, and Peppa Pig

Greek 101

The maintenance man
Is trying to teach me Greek
So I now know the words for
Hammer and screwdriver
Rake and wheelbarrow
Nice tits and tired

A Work In Progress

I’ve been trying to write this poem about two moms
watching their kids catch frogs for like three weeks now
and it isn’t going well
first I was trying to compare them to islands
with lines like, ‘they are two islands in the sea of motherhood’
but not only was that exceptionally lame, it was a confusing metaphor
considering they were standing next to a pond, not the sea
so I scrapped the islands and tried to use the frogs instead
something about how the women’s feelings
were also lurking beneath the surface
but that felt forced and a little too obvious
the poem was a total mess by then and I had to wonder
why I even started writing it in the first place
considering I had no intended statement to make
which is like getting into the car before you have anywhere to go
I guess the truth is that I was just lonely and horny
and I thought those two moms looked nice standing there
hands on their hips, their aging bodies glowing in the afternoon light

Sad Reality

I’ve been writing poems for about 10 years now
And have made zero dollars from it
Last night I DJ’d a wedding here at a Greek hotel
For three hours of mostly 80’s pop and 90’s R&B
(Return of the Mack went over well)
I was paid 100 Euros, unlimited drinks and a slice of red velvet cake
Which makes me a far more successful DJ than poet
Yet here I am this morning, hungover
And scribbling another worthless poem

Poetry in this post: © Avery H. Thompson
Published with the permission of Avery H. Thompson