http://slow.writerscafe.org/Thurston The original writings of author Thurston en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776035169 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 A dream http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/625189/ And these were your gifts, thesefive bright stones. I count them dying of love. I come into your roomstill counting. One is brown, it is the earth, the pittedgrowing-old earth, the body of you.Awkward-shaped, it is smooth with river's work.I hold it roughly. It gentles into my pal.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/624377/ CAPTION: Moscow has six and a half million residents, sociable, hardworking, cheerful and hospitable people who induce the capital’s happy rhythm of life. Soviet publication. The smiles were there to be countedoffered up into the camera’s encouraging eyethat caught them crus.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/619413/ Waiting for Godot? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/615841/ “…He died young. She lives     faithful to his memory…”  Cocktails pause...titillated.Irony.  We grin and wink. Such devotion! What a waste!  Like nuns or the more handsome model of anarchist. Pulse lunges at her throa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/613963/ I.The Railway Ave 'v woteverbowser ‘n bumpkin town yu knowhas a No.3 council cream and weathermentioned people’s palace too and here, where the people’s malice knew only the town’s boundary OUR MARY  moved in a grubby green, remainder of thirteen woo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/612916/ Slowly we get whittled down. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/611424/ Prepare to find out http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/609424/ My place of waiting http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/606580/ In the "Circle" at Parramatta Gaol 1971. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/605457/ A woman as prisoner. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/605058/ Only when it moves. Then it becomes central. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/604091/ In a coup there are no second prizes. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/603248/ Such care with your body. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/602520/ Spirit to the Four Winds http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/601794/ A lively childish breeze defies children, teachers and his Big Momma http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/601403/ How a woman of few words was the centre of the universe to her husband and silent sons. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/599801/ A baroque wind blows up on a Sunday afternoon. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/598872/ Where I shout certain words for effect. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/598474/ Mallory and Irvine were last seen making for the summit. (Log entry). http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/597829/ A poem about somebody we all know. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/597611/ Sent as a letter to the Gisborne Herald and published as a letter. circa 1985 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/597515/ For Mmy brother, Barry, who drowned in Lake Taupo, December 22nd, 1972. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/597127/ A poem about a bridge http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Thurston/596517/