m.t. whitington


A force majeure, female catalyst, futurist, polemicist, psychonaut, epistemologist. Ruminating between the lines with a clarion call and extreme unction.  A global writer with southern roots.


Ballistic Saccades

Ballistic Saccades

the eyes move as fast as they are able,

blink...finger in the navel!

depression at the center of the shell whorl,

life-giving nerve ending,

dopamine fasting. omphalos gazing. 

reconstruct your fetish, reconstruct your world, 

eyes dart around to make sense of it.

life is a blur but we don’t see it that way,

perceived visual continuity across ballistic jerks;

our brains remap stability across ballistic saccades,

reconstruct your fetish, reconstruct your world. 

our eyes move as fast as they are able,

blink... finger in the navel! 

a series of images, each a fraction of the scene

focuses on the fixation. put together from shuttering, 

bewildering multitudes of ballistic saccades 

follow the self-absorbed pursuit. contemplate one’s navel!

vexes, flexes, perplexes, sexless,

breathe in, breathe out; omphaloskepsis. 

the livestream in your head bears no resemblance to reality.

snapshots less than a qubit, a fleeting glimpse illusion.

the eyes move as fast as they are able,

blink... eye on the navel! 

Mad Honey

Mad Honey

The Reading

The Reading