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.


familiar

familiar

a sweet disorder


rings the bell,


howls at the north of words,


drops face in hands.


distance weighs on the blue penciler…


Alexa, hey, Siri.


hey, dummy. 


what’s on my Google calendar?


insults on an infinite loop.


between two virtual assistants,


toggle tarnished accents


with varnished questions.


familiar?


on the piano,


bust heads all in a row,


brain matter lineup matters.


intelligence quotients arranged them.


is it magic?


virus, bacteria transmogrify


human evolution and development,


damage, shrinkage 


coupled with stress and isolation


after a pandemic, after an upheaval


demands, burdens of life weigh heavier.


experts say, hang on to something 


familiar. 


leatherbound. the book. the sculpture. the painting.


my pillow. is it magic?


hermit…shut-in syndrome,  Hikikomori is spreading


through the digitally connected…


hopelessness, relationship fatigue, inevitability, and fear.


crisis after crisis, a crisis of conscience. 


shake up the malaise, and go deeper inside yourself.

look it up…AI is listening.


virtual assistant,


can artificial intelligence teach empathy?


if it could knock, if it could see,


no trigger phrase is needed,


familiar blue penciler,

cursive connection.


opportunity tracking, teach empathy.

Novalunosis

Novalunosis

the moon cuts the sun—the eyes have it.  (the Purkinje effect)

the moon cuts the sun—the eyes have it. (the Purkinje effect)