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.


Stars and Cicadas!

Stars and Cicadas!

 

The untranslated stars still shimmer in utter silence

Above antediluvian hills; nightly vigil of summer cadence

Hack dry thirst-stricken air, saggy heaves of heat’s fate

Eruptive lightning rolls dumb-throated in disassociated state.  

Hark! Stars and cicadas, noisy brood of red-eyed insects shaken

Early on four years, temporal nymphs shrill song betimes awaken

On sappy xylem of warmed tree root. Some haunt of trickery

Acceleration event risk it’s misered bounty in summer mockery.

Panting distils the glistening lake in exhalation. No whisper mars

Secret curiosities of constellations even reflection, silent silver bars!

 

 

 

 

We Have been Covfefed!

We Have been Covfefed!

Hobby Horsing

Hobby Horsing