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“My Mom says to never boil rolled oats with meat, especially pork” I told Sister Angelique. “She said it's not good for the stomach”

“Bah, what does your Mom know? She don't know how to cook. Look how skinny you are” Sister Angelique said to me in disgust brushing away my words like they were flies buzzing around her face. I watched as she dumped a few big handfuls of rolled oats into the gia...

#1 Divorce

We walked hand in hand down to the dock.

"When I die", she sighed, "I want to be buried near here to listen to the sound of water". 

 I obliged.

#2 At the Carnival in Venice

She always kissed him on the corners of his mouth. In honour of her memory, he slowly painted his face half white and half with her silhouette and her kiss.

A hush fell over the carefully constructed circle of family members we created in the basement as the ceremony started. The Medicine Man sat in the middle. He filled the tiny wooden bowl with consecrated tobacco hand- picked by one of the daughters as is customary. All soft conversations hushed as he slowly stood raising the pipe to the East, to the South, West and finally to the North. Each time he sang a song with a powerful voice that belied his age and stature.

Floating, bloated and full

  of dark slime.

    Dead body cats swimming

      leisurely like a

        fat man in a tiny pool

          Grotesquely stretched out

            for the sun to ...

This is only an excerpt from a graphic novel I've been developing...it's been halted for lack of an artist.. although I think I may have found one in my very own classroom... My t. a. ! Turns out she's a very good artist...

I have already developed characters, plot, scenery, history, and miscellaneous things such as clothing style, time frame and places. 

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Sometimes I dream of my Grandmother in my backyard. She is walking towards me all beautiful and shiny. She has become an angel, and old softly wrinkled angel. When I dream of her, I like to believe that she has come to check on me, that I was her favorite. This belief comforts me.

I think of my sisters and categorize them, I think of my brothers and they become one. Different colors all running into one, to create one darkly masculine color.

I often wonder why I think like I do,...