Though drinking only coffee,
methought the lawn did move,
and I was not mistaken:
A thousand thousand warrior worms,
making their circuitous march
behind waving blades of grass,
like the soldiers bearing branches
that made the Birnam Forest walk.
Their mission remains classified,
but I fear the plot’s not comic.
Copyright 2017
T. Allen Culpepper
In the greenish light
of an August thunderstorm,
flora wet and lush.
Copyright 2017
T. Allen Culpepper
Sirius chewed off a piece
of the Moon Pie in the sky last night,
dropping a meteor shower of crumbs,
and after the approaching sun
melted the vanilla icing off,
the rest fell into the horizon,
like a giant misshapen coin
sliding into the sofa crack of the universe.
Copyright 2017
T. Allen Culpepper
Poetry When It Comes 