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.


“I have forgotten my mask”

“I have forgotten my mask”

dark velvety night melted into an ugly orangy mess

late afternoon still dark as dusk that street lights stress 

inside outside seven somethings in the air open the dog

absurdity walk apocalyptic pandemic streets masked car 

ash raining down millions dead or dying from a virus a log

monitoring rampant corruption senseless musing blackstar

daughters of the owl or ostriches and some prodigal son wise

cursed to live in interesting times learn to wait well mudslides

meteor bouncing off the atmosphere the oldest fossil feather

swerve into depths of forgotten umbrellas my accomplice’s task, 

berlin butterflies so very Nietzschean rubber soul… “I have forgotten my mask”! 

Me Too Medusa

Me Too Medusa

Torqued

Torqued