fantasy
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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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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 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…
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by Michael Plante There’s a chill that creeps up your backwhen the full moon risesand the mist hovers over the hills of Carolina.In the old tin shed a candle is litand placed in the window to ward off the ill.“Never mind about this housemove on to where you need to be” And the spirits call…
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by Michael Plante The howling wake returned an answerto a riddle I asked many years ago.The feather did falter and was lost in the nightnever to return to the river’s edge. The incumbent star of spirits passedholds secure the lasting lightforever reminding uswhere the river is. Trickery or tomfoolery trips the mindstumbling behind the shadows…
