http://slow.writerscafe.org/Stonewall The original writings of author Stonewall en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776054755 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Just a state of mind. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/760625/ For three nightsstraightI lick thewhiskey from my lips,That sourserenade like fruitcake.So out ofcharacter, I know.But do not fearfor me-The bottle isempty,And so is thewallet. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/760596/ Thefirmness of her upper outer thighIn thesoftness of my drunken fingers.The warmbreath of my wit in her ear,My noseamong her hair. Against thecoarseness of my grain,Her velvetcheek-My lips fortalking…No longerexploring. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/759953/ I am weightlessand freeStillCrushing andcrushedWithunburden-able burdenYearning forflightYet,Co-dependentwith gravity Forever lost,that horizonITussling withemptinessKnow noboundaries for dreamsTo put them,where-Alone?.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/756212/ I needsomething freshI’ve beensitting here too longWhat use isa refresherWhen I’vebeen living wrong I alwayslook so far aheadWith myshort-sighted eyesSo muchobsessed with then and whenI forgetthat I’m alive Consumed .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/750048/ I saw thelight of her smile,Throughunreliable eyes, butI could notsay if she smiled for me.Did I wanther?I did.Did I go toher?No.If I knewher, what then? Do not nameher, never…As astranger she is everything. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/748717/ When I sneeze,I cannot help but think;That maybe my breath wants its freedom too. The dust falls,I cannot help but think;Of the dust that held so much potential. The tissue crumples,I cannot help but think;Of the forests that fall for my snot.&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/748442/ How I fear the heart of change, andThe seemingly endless dragOf a vacant hope estranged.To hope for death-And to kill, exemplary.What is it to succeed with gore,And yet somehow to fail- Possessing so much more? Loneliness is all that we build,The windin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/748439/   The girl closes the frontdoor in the late afternoon, the handle turned all the way to avoid the sound ofthe latch against the strike plate. Holding her breath, she eases theresistance in her wrist, letting the mechanism slowly spring back to itsrelaxed state of collus.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/747572/   Where is the heart that lets me break like waves,Lets me wake with a startTo the winter sun’s haze;Lets me break on the shore of an inland sea,Creates the sedimentary layersThat remember more than me. Where is the Rosetta for the complex of time,Well there&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/300818/   Gone are the wild daysWhen troubadours sang of honeyAnd life was colouredBy lens of amber liqueur.Gone are the wild daysOf wine… of song;Of songs that I needed to sing.My narrative is richer nowMy character more subtle,Endow me with a quietudeOf softly sung.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/242005/  Ambition like a craggy mountain peak,See how the moss grows on the south side of the sun.The higher we climb, the higher the shadow-and greater the darkness we leave behind. Ambition like a knife that seeks out blood,Unaware in itself of its driving force;Whether of anger .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/235342/  For the deep timbre resonanceThat is smooth like silkI murmur a breath-A rumour of soul that ticklesIn depths,Like the lips that face the hum. Who is the one,That breathes out magicAcross the teeth that bite down?Upon everything that they saw-    &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/231305/  When a face will not stickIn the gaze of a wandering eye-When the floating remainsOut of reach in the sky.I want to connect, feel the paceFor a while;I want to reflect on the speedOf a smile. Duty like a precipiceBoth above and below-A long way to fallAnd a long .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/229203/   Let words caress your memory,For today you are away.You rose in slumber’s warmer depthsWhen the daylight came-That needed no allegory. He that makes the daylight come,Is he that opens his eyes.And lost in the curve of your backWas I, when the darkness slo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/219574/   Bubbles and InterpolIt feels like everybody’sSoul is melting ice-cream http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/217965/    I take a deeper breath, andYet I still cannot sleep-Hunger pangs, or something moreConspire to keep me awake. How can I let go of a sighThat is something I need to say;Breathe it to a night so empty-That doesn’t love me at all? Mine is the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/212770/   How can I speak of the winds that blow,Of the stranger’s kiss, on the cheeks that know?Does a cell feel tired, when it goes to sleep;When one cell dies, do the others weep? I am akin to change, I am seen, unsure-I am societal desires that I crave no more.I am.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/208262/  CHAPTER 2 The month passed slowly, like a childhood summer holiday fondly remembered as having a touch of magic, everything tinted and bathed in a sentimental light.            But Bruce Barlow was impatient, and poor Jonathon.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200276/  CHAPTER 1 Bruce Barlow brought his off road vehicle to a halt in the narrow lane. Ahead the lane continued on into the fading distance, before swinging off to the right around a low hill and out of Bruce’s vision. On Bruce’s right the lane was bordered by a low, dry-ston.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200273/ A Bruce Barlow Mystery http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200268/    Arresting, this coldly engineered excitementBorn like a baby with someone else’s name;Could I speak of the agony,Could I speak of the pain?Could I say something original, about the way I feel-Would speaking even help me to heal? Torturing, my broken s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200229/   I think I should start by describing the wind. How it blows in sideways across my hotel room’s balcony deliciously cool against the warm night. In a way it is ageless. And then, how the trees below, palms and others green and leafy rustle with a contented restlessness. Storie.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200216/  As the storm rages twiceSo it shatters in me,The bright light I seek-The spite speak,The coronation.Eternity repossessed by the moment. Intuitive, I led the dance there,Steps so steeped in agony-The mindshare,Uploading.Lit by purer hopes than mine-Now I can't bre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200208/   The Lake The cold grey light of dawn showed the lake, its waters dark in the shadows of the clouds. The sun was up, but it was hidden, and a chilling wind whipped up the surface of the water, and blew with little regard or compassion across his naked chest and back. He lay i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200206/   From time to time I am guilty of being angered by little things. Even when I know that ‘angry’ isn’t really how I feel. At times like these, even though I am angry and sad inside, I still am able to say,         &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200202/   I once wrote and believed that I lived enchanted dreams. I wonder what I meant, because in hindsight, nothing was ever so perfect.            Soon to fall. I wrote that as well, and I fear it has the greater truth. &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200189/   My head awakens to itself, heavy with morning mist. The alarm goes off like a klaxon and the prospect of nine-to-five soars overhead in carpet bombing formation. Carpet; damp, musty, dusty and warm like a filter upon my breath, and my brain can’t get the oxygen I need. How wi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200181/    I remember you all too well. Are you frightened? I know that I am. I dwell on you like a sleeping antarct. I suppress all feelings extraneous to you and feel excitement rise. There is something dark here.            G.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200177/ I always heard a story in my head when I listened to the Augie March song of the same name. This is it. The sentences sort of flow to the rhythm of the song, so they may seem a little strange. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200172/ A metaphorical ramble. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200162/ One of my earlier stories written a number of years ago, but probably the first pieces in the style I have found myself growing into. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/200149/   How my memories drift away,Resigned to a forgotten antiquity;In the dark, in the dusk, in the never-I never remembered a thing. The course of who I’ve been,The slowly evaporated flow;The string, the tether, the knot-The nothing that held me down. I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/191045/  I think it was twelve hours, more?That the heavens opened-Just a crack.And the earth smelled good again. Breathe, breathe and letThe moisture fill your breath.For some the water does mean life,For others, it means death. My spirit dances in the mists,And the d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/185338/   How could I be sad that it is over? Life… life and all our meddling. I learned to see humanity as some sort of plague. I don’t know if that is right or wrong. But then, plague isn’t really the word for it… that word ignores all our dreams, our visions and ou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/184394/   He was furtive and intransient. He thought he was there, and then he was not. He was never sure if he wanted to be. Sometimes he liked not to be seen.            Sally. Scarlet. Amber. Adrienne. Charlie. Where had they come fro.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/174155/    Things change… have you ever wondered how? They creep and slink around the edges of your life, while you focus your eyes in a direction you were never really going in. This is difficult for me, thinking about direction in this way. I am searching for direction, I am re.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/163063/   Felicity took the time to say what she really felt, as much as it was hurting her. As much as it was also hurting Mike. She said nothing, and thus felt the pain with every word not thought and every word unenunciated. Away from this pain she felt nothing.Inside her head, all was no.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/158275/   The River It is just past midday and the sun is high up in the sky and warm. Much warmer than two hours ago when Gerard had been in a different city where the sun had been masked by cloud. This airport looks familiar, teasing a vague impression in his memory. He has been her.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Stonewall/158009/