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.


Fall

Fall

lay down in electric fields

of negatively charged 

flowers 

that pull the bees 

accumulating positive static.


come time 

in the hoarfrost,

in the rime of ordinary matter, 

a dose of cold reality

in the gravity.


down, down,

in darkness singing

on the longest night of healing,

antimatter falls


through solar winds,

lightning tantrums,

and electric fish.

in vigesimal chant, 

tethered in the fabric,


atom. atom. atom. 


corrosion.

a magnetic moment

of opposite signs 

lingers in drops of female tears

that calm the opposite sex.


contradictions

stand on turtle shells,

winds through helicoidal snail-backs

and nautilus.

priceless

small amounts 

constantly rain down


in the matter-dominated,

human-generated, bioelectric 

brain battery-powered verse. 

137

137

the shadows whisper

the shadows whisper