fiction
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My name is Pamiuqit means “dog with no tail”I was born in the tundraa vast nothingnessthat leads to my feet. Only fate can distribute calamityand the tundra is full of it.It rises like snow drifts in winterand sings through blistering windswhen the midnight sun has disappeared. It breaks the very ice you stand oninto pieces…
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In elementary school I was handed a blank canvas,some brushes and paint.Our teacher said, “paint something you learned”I decided to paint a Navajo dwellingsomewhere in the desert untouched by written history. In one hand I held a paletteblending the colors of a night sky.A memory sparked and inspiration ignitedwhat flowed through my heartflowed from my…
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by Michael Plante Can you see yourself floating on the seasin a little craft;waves lappingthe sun is shininga slight breeze brushes your cheeka cloud rolls by to say “Hello”and you laugh because it looks like a smile? At that moment you can become anything you likego anywhere you wantspeak to anyone you please.Nothing dares to…
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by Michael Plante PrologueIn 1953 the Canadian Government sent the R.C.M.P. to Inukjuak P.Q. and Pond Inlet, Nunavut to ask residents to be relocated to the Arctic. This was to have Canadian representation in the Arctic during the U.S.A./Soviet Cold War era. They were told that if they didn’t like it after 2 years they…
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by Michael Plante The old wise man sits atop the mountain. Peering down into the valley he draws the conclusion that life alone is a much better choice.The chaos and smoke chokes the body and the mind.“better to be a wise hermit than a follower setting his own house on fire”From the top of the…
