He joins me
in a cosmic
accident,
walking by
the sea
the master of
The Mermaid
House,
just him and
me, by surprise
and fate
we are racing
along against
the wind, admiring
his fabulous abode,
the one I would choose
if able,
standing like a
queen on the shores
vines in the
courtyard, a hint
of water sounds
out from a fountain
unseen from the
street, it’s meant
to entice behind
the gate, perhaps
he peeks from a
shuttered window
engaged in some
quirky business,
he doesn’t tell
much, only about the
legacy, the wonderful
Mr. Morse back in 1926,
making rules for the fine
homes of the forest,
my companion knows
all this and more,
he sleeps in the room
facing the ocean
and dines at the table
of waves and mating
seals, banks of fog
rolling in over the
Pacific, he sits and
studies the tales
of the mermaid,
posting flags outside
while I walk by,
intrigued, yearning,
learning,
a heart burning for
the first visit, will
you ever see me
once I pass the doorway?

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 8/1/13

She was the apple
of his eye,
the little house
at the end of
the freeway,
tucked into
a neighborhood
with others of
the same bent,
it was 1957 and
My dad was
buying his first
and only dwelling,
a place he would
fall in love with,
having been on
the road most of
his playboy
gypsy life,
and lucky to
find a home
of his own
with a yard
the size of a
football field,
he took a few
more wives
and added a pool,
a suite for his
first daughter,
skylights and
palm trees,(while
saving the plum
and apricots for
wife number five
to make some jam),
the times changed
and his family grew
while he became
quite the movie
guy and other
secret talents,
lining the
fences outside with
Disney Posters,
dice from Vegas set
into the shallow end
of the splash,
thriving on the
one thing he
could call his
own, never before
and never again,
it was his last
passion, leaving
the remains to
a family who has
now divided itself
into parts that
he would not
recognize or approve,
NO MORE FIGHTING
he would say,
You should be here
now, soaking in
the rays with
a frozen daiquiri,
stop arguing, please,
can’t you see the
beauty of life,
it is so dear to me,
remember my smile
and embrace your
time, for it will
all pass too quickly
and soon you will
be joining me,
wishing for one
more swim,
within…

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 7/1/13

Your Media train
leaves at 4 AM,
bound for the
Left Coast and
pure mayhem,
(the land of
fruits and nuts
and glow,
plus the grand
movie daughter
of Dick Winslow),
the Conductor
Calls every
twenty minutes
with a bucket load
Of questions,
playing from
a cheatsheet
full of factual
impressions:
all those things
people want
to know,
while the sun rises
there are many
surprises, from Fargo
North Dakota
and chilly Minnesota,
Queries in lovely
Southern diction,
wanting details about
fact and fiction,
all the stories
the amazing glory
of being a writer,
way before the
clock ticks six
you gulp some
caffeine , stand
strong in the dream,
chugging along toward
Denver and Kentucky,
This locomotive tracks
fast and lucky,
and a little complex,
with the questioning side
from the opposite sex,
curious about the
Big Sur tricks
the fog in the air
is misty and thick
these would-be world
travelers do their work
from the chair, without
a care for the prurient
soul who paces
the opening hours
of sensual spaces
With much to inspire
with her fabulous list
of ardent admirers,
it’s the world of my
acting father, my
singing mother,
my curious brother,
all bound up in
a live conversation
broadcast before dawn,
flying the airwaves
to the drive-alongs,
commuting,
wondering what
that woman might
be wearing,
is she commanding
and overbearing,
where has she been,
what shape is she in,
what next of kin
will pick up the pieces
after all these
brand new releases?

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 6/1/13

The skunk
and the Dove
cross my path
it is a Void
Course of the Moon,
my love waits
for a sign:
(something to
show the way)
while aphids play
in tiny circles
on one rose, the
others having escaped,
a sure sign that
the world is
changing evidenced
by odd little fluffy
green balls
hanging from
an ancient tree
parked next to
my door, it has
seen many come
and go, and still
surprises with
these blooms
in the Void
Course of the Moon,
when nothing
is supposed to
happen, but
everything does,
ten spanking
new easels
fresh from the
writer’s eye
will hold the
first of Dyanna’s
Dream Shows,
secret art that
materializes
now, as it must,
evidence of
something more
than a longer
ray of sun
or the shy little
kitten who
hides in my garden,
but the belief
of the tide rolling
in to my Butterfly
Beach, promising
something special
always in tune
even thought it
is a Void Course
of the Moon…

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 5/1/13

WE DID IT
IN OUR OWN
SWEET WAY:
THE SECRET
WEDDING
THE GOLDEN DREAM
I WORE A DRESS
OF MY NANA’S,
LONG AND FABULOUS
BLUE
AND GLAMOUROUS
IT FIT LIKE A GLOVE,
A PERFECT GOWN
FOR A DAY OF LOVE,
THE OUTCASTS
GATHERED, THE
HOT AND THE NOT
A SELECTED FEW
AT DUSK, IN
THE GARDEN THAT
NEVER WAS,
A NICKNAME FOR
THE PLACE WHERE
WE FELL FOR
EACH OTHER,
HOVERING OVER
LIZARDS AND
BUTTERFLIES
IN A CLOUD OF
THAT FUNNY
SMOKE, WE
AGREED IT WOULD
BE A JOKE ON
THE WORLD
TO MARRY OURSELVES
ON CHRISTMAS
EVE, AND TELL
NO ONE: THE EXWIVES
THE SLAIN BOYFRIENDS
THE NOSIES ~
MY DAINTY POSIES
WERE A TESTAMENT
TO ANOTHER TIME,
WOUND AROUND
LONG GOLDEN
LOCKS, SNUGGLED
NEXT TO MY
BROTHER, WHILE
THE SCANT FEW
WE WANTED
STOOD IN A CIRCLE
AND WE JOINED
OUR LIVES,
FOR ONCE MY HERO
WAS DUMBSTRUCK
WHISPERING HIS VOWS,
PROMISES TO BE
GOOD TO ME,
HE COULD NOT
FORESEE THE END,
THE WAVES SLIPPING
OFF THE SHORE,
WAITING TO TAKE
HIM HOME, IT
WOULD BE A COMET
OF A TIME, FAST AND
FREE, BORN INDEED
IN SILENCE AND
SEXY SMILES,
ALL ROSES
AND GUILE,
NOW ME AND
MY BROTHER
ARE THE ONLY
ONES LEFT,
A STRANGE
DISTINCTION
FOR THE
RUNAWAYS,
HARNESSED BY
SHOOTING STARS,
WE NOW
EXIST ONLY
ON MARS!

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 4/1/13

Today my new
Baby was born
and I celebrate
her shining
presence, not
as you would
suppose, she
is 382 pages
and very slick
all green parts
and words
from the heart
of Big Sur,
what a ride
it has been,
music from
New York,
art from the
masterful
Nepenthe genius
everything changing
from day to day
I cannot keep up
time to sink
into D. Matthews
he knows my
soul, not so much
Rock and roll,
more like a step
into the far
reaching universe,
“Do what you know”
he sings today,
“Do what you love”
and it is the way
of my world,
running upstream
unanswered dreams
oceanic schemes,
if nothing is what
it seems, then
what is it,
(just wondering)
while I cradle
Volume three
in my arms
next to me,
waiting for the
eyes of perusal,
there will be
no refusal of
this gait,
she is worth
the wait, I swear…
bounding across
the sea, she will
find the African
veldt, the tigers
and lions, the
shores of wild things
fingers reaching
out to all the sisters
and brothers,
finally the book
dedicated to my
favorite man,
my hero in secret
my friend,
to that end,
he will be surprised!

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 3/1/13

The light of
America
shines late
at night,
we hold our
breath at
the sight
of people
come to
celebrate a
great patriot,
turning into
his second
term of office,
we may not
recognize
the jolly
fair thee well
fellow of
yesteryear,
this man is
serious and
gray, with
the same quirky
smile and
a strong step,
he wears it
well, this
mantle of
leadership
despite the
naysayers
we all see
the beauty
of presidency
the pride and
determined
actions, dancing
with a woman
he loves,
holding the family
close, it seems
to be a pattern:
STICK TO
YOUR GUNS,
even when the
odds are against
you and you are
Black, a man
unlikely to be
where he is,
yet he speaks
not of that,
but of us,
and where will
we go as
citizens of
the most beautiful
country on earth,
may we be
reminded in the
hours of celebration
that we are one,
And bound to support
Our leaders,
the work rolls
on long after
others are asleep,
It’s our watch
that he keeps,
guiding a
nation of
individualists
and rebels
can’t be easy,
but he asked
for the job and
now he must
show us his stuff,
isn’t that
enough to
write
home about? 

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 2/1/13

The essence
of life
never fails
us, even
in the mean
streets
the dreams
that break
Spirit,
the rapture
of light
disappearing
from sight
when needed
most,
deepest
fantasies
are part of
the secret
they lie
inside the
curve, the
bend in the
road where
you take
a chance,
and if we
only live
once, then
let this time
shine,
in pain
in love
in gain
the profit
earned with
the human
touch
will tear
your heart
apart
until strings
of remorse
strangle the
raw and pure
passion
instilled at
birth, the
final push
into this world
comes with
a pass, one
way, all day
so use up
those hours
and days
don’t look
back,
it’s useless
to regret,
admit it,
you’re hooked
on the ride,
so relax,
rebel,
enjoy
find your
spot, and
give it
all you’ve got…

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 1/1/13

Will you
make love to me
on this cold
and rainy day,
play with
my heart
tear me apart
take my breath
away,
it’s one of
those times
when I’m
hungry for you
more often
than not
much overdue,
I’ve tried other
avenues
sung other songs
but somehow
I know this
is where I belong,
maybe it’s all
because you
are here,
so close
and so natural
as if to appear
as a pony in flight
hot and so ready
firing into the night
hang tough and steady,
we talk about
nothing, we have
no regrets,
so personally, Baby
that’s the best
thing yet,
no strings or rings
no ties that bind
nothing to fear
or left behind,
just a spark of
delicious
sticking to thee
come here and
love me,
and let us be free. 

©J.W.WINSLOW 12/1/12

As always,
it is the surprise
the uncertain
that knocks me
off my feet,
and so the grand
reveal of a new
book, the brilliant
cover art,
the pristine pages
the words appearing
as if by magic
when I know
exactly what
is coming next,
a birth without
parents,
but with pages
of a tale
wrapped in love
and fantasy,
the wiles of
the world and
sadness of time,
danger and
death, it’s
all there,
the picture
of a fantasy
come true
shining from
the presses,
still wet,
like a newborn
not quite
ready to handle,
but admire
all you wish,
for soon enough
you will be
out into the world
and we all know
after that, it’s
anyone’s guess,
the sweet smell
of success lies in
the first page
dedicated to
MAASIE:
AWESOME!

 

©J.W.WINSLOW 11/1/12