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.


zone

zone

the west is burning and nobody cares,

engulfed in a gorgeous sort of terror,

dry mean ass vortex of hot air!

shifting, and the sky is pissing urine

as if overlaid in a bleak instagram filter.

 

the west is burning and nobody cares,

drought coughing apocalyptic red,

a doomsday summer of burn!

revolutionary struggle, mud slapped lands end

unprepped for the snuffing of the snow,

wildlife knows! the birds have stopped chirping!

 

the west is burning and nobody cares,

“see here, murder: when we witness atrocity,

we must stay eyewitness to the majesty.”

alas, hope is never motivated by bad news,

smoke floods along the ley lines

where cars choke, where wildlife refuses.

everything is on fire drafting into cities,  

where all the little stars of heaven are in rows.

 

the west is burning and nobody cares,

in this hottest year fire is full on scorched acres,

records and records eleven million acres!

everything is burning and nobody cares,

prisoners, firejumpers choke on grey dryness;

no bees, no bugs, soot covered deer, parched osprey.

 

the west is burning and nobody cares,

rearing heads in the mind body perception problem,

our spoiled line sketched future divergent zone halted!

the west is burning smoking on doomsday!

goodbye greenhouse globe, nature has stepped in.

blue tropopause says, “hello sun, cut throated”.

bi-coastal confession

bi-coastal confession

in the grove of wooden men

in the grove of wooden men