The Origins of Poetry

Random thoughts pulled toward a point of convergence,

like steelĀ filings drawn to a magnet, colliding, clinging, piling up,

fusing into a junk-metal sculpture, found art from lost purpose.


Copyright 2016

T. Allen Culpepper


The story goes

that if you stop your car

at the bottom of the hill

and shift it into neutral,

some magnetic force

will tractor-beam it

backward and upward

at accelerating speed,

and when I hear it,

I imagine the mythology

of some alternative universe

in which their Sisyphus

sprints perpetually up

his mountain in reverse,

colliding with the boulder

god-parked at the top,

and then I wonder

if my punishment’s

the same, just slower.

Copyright 2016

T. Allen Culpepper