http://slow.writerscafe.org/jwillox The original writings of author john alan willox en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776069099 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 woke upgot dressedwent to workcame homeate and went to sleepgot nothing to say...but in-between saw a woman in a short skirt,saw a baby with a big smile,saw a woman in a short skirtsaw a dog with a big smile,saw a woman n a short skirt...saw my reflection with a big smile...got nothing to say. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1539307/ I noticethere are no more hitchhikers...are they all dead?or because of texting are thumbs obsolete? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1300448/ my shadow spoke today, not out loud, that would be ridiculous, but I saw his lips move,like a bad ventriloquist, and i, the puppet, more from force of habit, replied, "but where would we find a woman like that?" over here, he mimed, as he sunk into the shade. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1278790/ I used to workin heavy lifting,loading skidswith cases of liquorfor distribution to the masses. I find it easier now, just one bottle at a time. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1257897/ spinning circles, discovering I had epilepsy. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1252461/ sometimesI wonder why I bother. I meanwhy don't I just writegoodbyeon a chalkboardand just walk away? well for oneI don't own a chalkboard,nor a facebook wall,so there's that, and then there's this undying effortto create something, anything, that will succeed where cha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1251848/ my shadow tapped me on the shoulder, i was a little surprised, he wanted to know where we were going. like he had a choice, like i had a choice... then the clouds answered for everybody, and we ran home in the rain.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1248848/ i've been away. not away in sense of travel,just away. i took a break and walked toward the oceani dared it to call me in... i can swim you know. she said she didn't care, she said she had waves andshe had currents and creatures. i said: i have a woman who lov.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1248835/ a true story http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1226976/ it's a sunday morning. she's  on the phone with her brother,judging by the the silence, there's a family history of verbosity, goodbye's start a half hour before leaving. i've never liked the telephone - it goes on forever, emails just stop. when you've had enough... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1224386/ so i'm walking the dog. it's a nice trail with a canopy of trees,and we see a squirrel,the dog goes nuts and the squirrel scampers up a tree. and i wonder; "where do squirrels s**t?" we walk with more caution now. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1224038/ i'm putting id on my dog. he's already been tattooed and micro-chipped. but now the city wants him tagged,or rather now the city wants $30. this means if the dog goes missing there's a 100% chance we'll get him back. (right now it's 50-50 if we recognize him - depends whose .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1217957/ i am working on a thought. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1216524/ i've been thinkingabout my mortality. not the normal aches and pains,not the diminished athletic skills,not the "wonder what fell off in the shower today" thoughts. metaphysical mortality. going to meet my parents mortality. holy s**t i'm dead mortality. i have to stop this&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1215430/ i've walked a mile in my shoes,and i'm pretty surei know myself. your stilletos gleam like surgical knives. sensible solesandsensible souls, heel, toe - heel, toe. work with me baby, i can make you a podiatrist dream. or at least - a foot closer. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1210648/ six word story http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1210643/ we kiss hello, goodbye - inbetween nothing. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1209540/ another six word poem http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1207778/ i was awakenedby thunder, i was dulledby theslowmeasuredindifference of your entitlement. en-lightning would have been sudden, your scalpel dragged like it was working on a sun dial. what's the word for goodbye? exodus. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1205837/ a copy of Jacob's six word autobiography http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1205822/ it's monday  - again.why do monday'salways come on monday? it even tortures sunday in anticipation,except in football season,oh hell, it even tortures sundayno matter what the season, occasionally monday falls on a tuesday,which makes tuesday a little bitter. wednesday smilesmedi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1204329/ if i make you quiver, does that make mean arrow ? a sharp pointy stick with feathers, or a direction ? where are we going ? and do you care if i make you quiver ?     http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1198057/ my sonturned 29 today. that's just scary on so many levels. i  used to change his diapers, now i fear our rolesmay soon be reversed. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1195750/ i wonder ifyou rememberthat day ? that 45th birth-daywhen you said,"i think we should see other people". and i thought:"i guess one of us already is". it's almost 20 years laterand i still think: "i never got laid on my 45th birthday". the 20th anniversaryis approaching,&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1193861/ your memoryate me like a date, on a calendar without a year, in a time best left forgotten. i have no idea why my alzheimersdoesn't work with you.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1192622/ todayis spelledmelancholy. cloudy, wet and smells of worms. this is not springthere are no robins, only crows,circling, short spirals of flightgoing nowhere. sometimes a mapis an escape route, yet if no road taken - just a scribbled paper in a language unknown. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1192615/ whendid the wordlikebecome a verbal apostrophy? or is it likejust me? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1188796/ a heart collapsed over cold coffee: her brother said - "she's seeing someone else" air became a commodity i could not afford.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1187935/ i want to be known by my initialslike those coolnews guys in the 40's my girlfriend is a dame when i have time, i call her dolland she likes it when i call. i don't pack a heater just my notepad and pencil. paper and graphite. twitter is a bird noiseand facebook is my mirror.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1187443/ when you’re deadand in theafterlife, do horoscopes still apply? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1187404/ i guess it’s lovewhen they can see through the restand love you for who you really are,sometimes knowing what you don’t. and vice versa. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1187395/ i lost my nickname,i just ran out of time. i lost my girlfriend,don’t think she was ever mine. i lost my hair,gained some extra flesh. still got all my teeth so far,at least the few that are left. which allow me moreover.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1187389/ so this iswho i amand this isall of me… ach, it’s asad old place when morelike your fatheryou becomethan everyou admit or want to be… and yetthere wasreason to admire somestrength in just the li.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1187386/ have you ever been campingand lying there at nightinside your sleeping bag,inside your tent,in the pitch blackwhen you hear it. that baby chain-saw noise,that whining high pitched engine noise that pimples your skinand makes you pull all extremities inside. but it's too damn hot so you hav.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1183784/ feeding pigeons    in thewinter park, white hair flowing,there’s anold lady feeding pigeonsto smalldogs that quickly erasetheevidencewith sharpteeth…she blesseseach passing within new showers of bread toco.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1180660/ so i'm going for a pedicure it's not because i'm elegant it's because i can't reach my feet anymore not that i've grown taller but between the bifocals and the arthritis my feet have moved further away damn feet always taking me where i don't want to go http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1177137/ rubie is not a slipperto be worn like a shoe. rubie is a brilliant red jewell accented by thoughts of travel in heels, where brilliant red jewells are coveted and held for ransom, by young men who sit in cafes drinking espresso and discussing rouge...&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1176873/ we are working towardour separationat a glacial pace. yet none less frigid. global warming has nothing to do with it. tired boredom is much more destructive,we await the realization that being aloneis not suicide. clinging to something dead is.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1170362/ they're selling yellow plastic flowers in the subway and the liquor store,it must be april. usually i only wear red - usually only in november. i pricked my finger on the stem when i tried to pin it, supporting a cause should not be dangerous nor just a fashion statement. i .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1155088/ written 2003 - posted becauseJacob reminded me of this http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1155031/ an older piece - didn't realize i was ever that serious... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1155025/ you werenot the firstwho tried, with love pretended,to kill me… but,  you werethe best… http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1155024/  i walked towhere thelighthouse stoodagainst acold november sky,grey water currentspulling thoughts to sea…iremembered making lovebeneath theevening trees across the bay upon the hill,where wedrank wineand ignorednoticed strangers pas.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1155021/ completely unasked  completelyunaskedhe said;i thinki’ve become an unhappy man…it’sdifferent than sadness you know…i supposein the past they said melancholy,they said alot of things in the past,i supposesome must.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1155020/ there are birdssinging outside my window this morning it's my birthday you'd thinkthey'd get the song right... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1151145/ i walked into a sunsetlike a beggarto a bakerey give me yesterday i need another chance even bagels get a do-over  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1151121/ thought i'd try writing something straight online http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1151111/ i'm listening to astral weeksvan morrisonit's been over twenty yearssince last heard it's been over twenty years can you say that about anything... sometimes i wonder who i'm talking to... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1151100/ once as a childi had a waking nightmareof a wall of porridge or oatmealwith faces and hands poking throughtrying to escapeor capture me to join themand a deep deep voicedroningin a language i did not understandbut understoodthick gooey walls of elastic dreamsand voodoo chants i've never ea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1151091/ bird of paradise,purple irisand roses, white as death.  death disguised as flowers,weightless scents, secretthe room like sacred whispers, possessingall who listen, while the preacher pretends the answer to the question no one asked.&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jwillox/1126913/