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.


fire lilies run to the flame

fire lilies run to the flame

let it burn! let it burn!

renew bennu, it is time to turn, 

wildfire lilies from the burn.

souls in the soil, souls in the soil,

run through the grass

golden poppies;

blue, purple and sassafras

in brilliance rise from the ash.

ash in the dirt, ash in the dirt,

where the wind blew, renew bennu.

smell the smoke! smell the smoke!

edible bulbs first to bloom, 

orange and red, orange and red,

fire gale fight and tame,

fire lilies run to the flame,

bark charred black,

after the burn, after the burn,

wind blows dead naked branches.

in tiny little patches, in tiny little patches

sage, buckwheat and chaparral,

fire lilies stir and lift morale.

bears and rabbits come back,

run through the grass, run through the grass,

blue, purple and sassafras.

let it burn! it’s time to turn!

blue, yellow and sassafras.

mount shasta

mount shasta

havada

havada