Sunflowers

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about sunflowers—the kind that kept Van Gogh tethered to his body and that convinced Hannah Gadsby that human connection can shield us...

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The Babies

The room is small, jail-like, with windows high in one wall. The air is humid. Breathing requires deep heavy intakes of energy. The bits of daylight filtering through...

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Stone’s “Formation” a Delight

It was a delight to discover Tammy T. Stone’s Formation. In this collection of poetry written left aligned and in fairly loose form...

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Our Institutions

Over the last twelve months of life at the Alvarezes, from fall of ‘65 to fall ‘66, the seasons gained momentum. The autumn equinox passed.

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Results of the First Dreamers Flash Contest

Congratulations to the winners of the 2019 Dreamers Flash Fiction and Nonfiction Contest. In a flash story, it’s important to make every word count...

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The Monster Barber

My father left his barbershop to work in construction years before I was born, yet he never stopped cutting hair. If you knew Gennaro well enough to visit his Italian home in the inner city of Cleveland...

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The Memory Box

In our living room, a box sits atop a record player, with a black and white photo placed upon the box. All three items act as a tabletop for collected dust...

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Delete.

“You need to choose which memories you want to delete,” the doctor said as she clasped her hands behind her head and tried to appear calm and confident...

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An Uncaged Bird

A chick on a board. Rise, drop, hot wheels singin’, the wind in her hair. Ready for Scarecrow man – break on your board, slide under his skinny arm.

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Sheets

Jane raced around her apartment leaving chaos in her wake. She was like a whirling dervish of manic energy. She always worked herself into a state...

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Dreamers Magazine Issue 5

I’m pleased to announce the release of Issue 5 of the Dreamers Magazine. In this issue you’ll find...

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Eliminating Rahiem

I have already decided: Today is the day I will kill my mother’s boyfriend. Mama's loaded shotgun has been leaning against her old dresser...

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STILL

and every day my mother, who is every day a mother, looks down defeated by her hands the hands that are her mother’s hands the gnarled strega nonna branches

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Atlas

The Narrator’s cane taps an uneven rhythm against ancient stone tiles as he hobbles through the library. There is almost no light to see by, but this does not slow his pace.

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In the Cypress Hills

Clouds under stars, and the stars move superior to the clouds. I open my eyes to the sound of horses, peer up from a slit in my blankets.

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Doll

I was there to induce labor at 22 weeks’ gestation. I was there to end my pregnancy. To have a late-term abortion. Abortion. Jesus, the word stings, doesn’t it?

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Fishing

Three of Jake’s buddies flew directly from Afghanistan into intensive rehab for amputees. Jake got dropped off back home with a medal...

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Some Days Are Yellow

Some days are yellow, some are blue. I know by heart my two-year-old’s favorite Dr. Seuss book and the rhymes repeat in my mind...

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