Thank You for Calling

These days in every direction I look, the world is falling apart. Fires and floods and extreme temperatures. A global pandemic. Almost 100 million refugees in the world seeking safe haven...

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Good Fences

Marja would write the curse, seal it in a film canister, and then, in the guise of being a welcoming neighbour, bury it in the roots of whatever Marja planted in the garden as a gift.

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YYZ

As the video conference ended, quiet tears poured down her cheeks. She felt very small as if someone had taken her voice away.

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Letter to My Ghost Kingdom

I mourn for the words of nobodies who had vital lessons or exceptional stories to tell, but they died, and their words were never found.

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Dreamers Magazine Issue 11 is Now Available!

We're pleased to announce the release of Issue 11 of the Dreamers Magazine, including the winner of our Place and Home Contest. Get your copy now!

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Last Night I Dreamt

The basement flooded and I watched the water fill the house to the rim. My books were ruined and I began to write my own.

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Deeply Rooted

I am hugging a tree, grounded with roots descending deep into the earth, blood as sap circulates and nourishes my body.

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Quiet Reflection on a Trying Year

My first time alone on New Year's Eve, future uncertain, past unresolved. The desire for time travel escapes me.

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Jamie Quinn Mader Poetry Collection

We heal and grow big hearts from the shatters of explosive heartaches.

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Blue!

There once was a boy named Max. Not just an ordinary boy, but a boy who could fly.

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Breakdown

I buy admission to the tattered big top amidst a hundred or more whose skin is the color of my own.

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Heathen

As your elder’s trunk snapped, you turned and ran, like a terrified child unsure which way the sky was falling.

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The Barn

I mulled over what I could have done differently. A crack in one of the hazy panes caught my eye. A fissure.

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Death and the Symphony

I remembered you on stage in Montreal with your guitar. How could you have picked up that gun?

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Advertise with Dreamers

With Dreamers Advertising, you never have to choose between online or print ads! Every ad purchased is published on our website AND in our magazine, giving you twice the coverage every time.

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On the North Shore

"The sensual wetness of the sand beneath my feet is balm to my seared soul. The siren song of waves beckons."

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Abiola Regan Poetry Collection

My blue ocean sadness. Kept from you, hidden from view. So I keep docking at the same port of hurt.

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Medicine Child

The warmth of your small body seeps through cracked exterior penetrates deep into this caked clay.

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