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.


wine song

wine song

“We shall not deign to go to bed, But we shall paint creation red.”

red weaves of hair tumble. he saves her from a stumble.

surely not the fishes, he came down to taste wine wishes–

plunged into the house decanter a book, a verse singing in the wilderness,

red ruby of truths– loaves and mutton returns us to the paradise of youth–

alliterations of pain 

alliterations of pain 

July Fire

July Fire