I will be showing three mixed-media pieces in this Collective show in the Cultural Center in Ajijic Plaza. Information on the opening reception is above. Below is one of the pieces I’ll be showing. 
Mulberry
Vincent, what skewed your branches, streaked your sky,
and drew tormented waters from above?
What crops, obscured by grasslands
pressed to earth?
What part of you
at rest beneath that tree––
now only your marker
left for us to see?
For dVerse Poets
To see other responses to this prompt, go HERE.
Dear Jane
I hold your letter in my hand as the sun like a crimson dragon claws through the thinning clouds––spreading its sunset colors against a sky bruised with the remnants of an earlier fog. It casts a halo around your head–a spell broken by what you have just repeated to me in person––those words that have hollowed out my heart, now empty of all those past promises gone without a trace.
You are bound for the glory of that new career, far off in a golden land. No mention of my coming along. So I will remain, formerly yours, broken-hearted, in this place where the sun has now set for you, ready to rise again, as you will, on the other side of the world.
For the Sunday Whirl Wordle #694 the prompt words are: hollow clawing bruised broken spell spiralingfog halo bound trace dragon crimson
Incandescent Insect Insomnia
When nature made the glow worm glimmer,
would that she’d installed a dimmer;
for when I put out the light,
what I expect is total night.
When it puts itself in action,
I fear it sets up a distraction.
Little glow worm on the shelf,
please keep your glowing to yourself.
For My Vivd Blog, the prompt is Glimmer. Photo gleaned from the Internet.
Photo by Ryan O’Niel on Unsplash. Used with permission
Stickler
The banker, the doctor, the rabbi, the priest
used to jam back in high school and never ceased.
They’ve been meeting on Saturday nights all their lives
leaving their girlfriends and bishops and wives
to drink beer and rap and have deep discussion
about riffs and choruses, notes and percussion.
The priest is the drummer. He wields a wild stick.
The rabbi’s a string guy. The cello’s his schtick.
The banker plays sax and the doctor’s on keys,
but they’re all pretty good at shooting the breeze.
It’s as hot as a sauna and still they play on.
All through the night and into the dawn.
the priest squeegees his glasses off with his left thumb
while his right is engaged in beating the drum.
He’s a stickler for rhythm, enthralled with the beat.
He stirs a small zephyr while stomping his feet.
When they’ll stop playing is anyone’s guess.
It’s obvious they overlook my duress.
They’ve had a good jam. A most excellent session,
but the priest better scoot or he’ll miss my confession!
The prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is Stickler.
I Took A Picture Of Your Name.
After so many years, seeing it again on the screen,
I took a picture of your name.
Not written by your hand,
it had a strangeness––
featureless, revealing nothing.
It had no voice,
no breath.
Out there sharing itself with the world,
it has formed a wall around
that intimacy it birthed when you took my hand in yours,
using your name to pull me closer,
powerless against its strength on your tongue.
Everyone wanted to share a part of what made you you,
but I only wanted to be with you, back when,
scrawled in your careless hand,
you were written on my soul.
Wanting to be perfect for you,
remembering that tattoo you traced across my back.
Your name and mine.
“Always,” you wrote.
For the dVerse Poet’s Pub, Feb 14, 2025
To see other poems written to this prompt, go HERE.
For Getting to Know You, #53 Balderdash Edition, the words to define are:
If you have not yet seen the movie Flow, move heaven and earth to see it. It is spellbinding. If you have a cat, you will be especially impressed with how perfectly the main character is illustrated. And, that said, we will have much to talk about afterwards.
The Taste of Love
What we feasted on
in those first stages of internet romance—
when nine hours was too short a conversation—was words.
We passed on to the next stage of computer dating:
our first dinner date.
He watched on his desktop computer as I prepared a salad.
This was a long and lengthy process
I recorded as closely as was possible,
using the camera from my laptop.
A prisoner of his large unmovable console computer, I watched his empty desk chair
as he repaired to the kitchen to prepare his meal, hearing sound effects but little else.
When he returned to the living room, he laid his meal in front of his computer.
I had yet to see it as I, in turn, placed my salad in front of me and took my first bite,
watching closely my technique according to my Skype image.
I chewed politely and then smiled,
revealing the lack of lettuce shards on my front teeth.
I looked up. He was watching me as lovingly as usual.
Now, it was his turn.
What are you eating? I asked. Ham, he said.
He lifted a huge hunk on his fork, taking a dainty bite
and chewing happily.
What else? I asked. Just ham, he answered.
And so he demolished the entire pound of thick ham steak,
now and then washing it down with a healthy swig of rum and Coke.
Rum and Coke.
It had been one of our bonding experiences
to find that the drink of choice for each
was Bacardi Rum with caffeine-free Diet Coke.
How could this not be a romance made in heaven?
Culinary compatibility from 2,000 miles away
seemed to be less of a problem than it would be months later,
when we first made physical contact.
But, there was a resolution. He started munching on carrots and I had no objection to ham.
We discovered a mutual mania for potato chips, and true romance bloomed
when I found the full bar of Hershey’s chocolate atop his refrigerator.
Who says we need to concentrate on our differences?
For dVerse Poets we were to post a poem about internet romance in honor of Valentines Day
