God in Drag follows last week’s piece. A reminder that the divine doesn’t just visit the holy places—it walks with us in all our contradictions. E.Z. “Treat everyone you meet like God in drag.” – Ram Dass We are all—God dressed in drag. Yes. Feathers, fishnets, fists raised in anger, eyes rimmed with...

Tales from the Rainbow Throne — A Spoken Word Piece The children gather in a hush.A soft spotlight brushes a plush rainbow rug.From behind the velvet curtain enters a vision—heels clicking, lashes blinking like galaxies.Big.Beautiful.Betty. She settles into a glittered rocking chair, adjusts her crown of chrysanthemums, andopens a rhinestone-covered book. “Good...

For Sandra Bradley—my friend, spiritual mentor, and channel of timeless wisdom—whose words in Vallarta Mirror kindle hope and reflection—I lovingly dedicate this piece. May its verses resonate with your gentle guidance and joyful spirit…and honor the miracles your teachings inspire. E.Z. The holiest place on earth is where an ancient...

“Realize deeply that the present moment is all you ever have.” —Eckhart Tolle In Puerto Vallarta, the sky is a kind of gospel. Each sunrise arrives like a whisper from the divine. Each sunset, a quiet benediction. People pause. Conversations still.And then—almost always—someone nearby says it, softly, reverently: “La...

To my American friends—so many of you here in Puerto Vallarta, living with open hearts, fairness, and respect for all walks of life—this poem is for you. Crossing the Line is a tribute, a reflection, and a hope—for the soul of a country, and those still holding her hand. E.Z. We crossed...

In the heart of Puerto Vallarta, I’ve been graced by the presence of women who do not age quietly. They embody art in motion—laughing louder, loving deeper, and wearing each year like paint upon canvas. This tribute is for them and for all who dare to age like fire...

For my mother, who shaped light. EZ They told me I was dying. Ovarian cancer. A flower too sacred to bloom wrong—and yet it did. For weeks, I clutched fear like rosary beads, counting each maybe, each what if, each not yet. I curled into the question, tight as a fetus— What now? What...

In Puerto Vallarta, the streets often speak louder than words. A weeping clown on the Centro Bus, a homeless woman on the street. In their eyes, I saw pieces of myself. EZ Painted Joy, Private GriefI was born with a painted-on grin—a trickster’s mask, stretched wide and thin.Red nose, big...

In a world frayed by loss and longing, art is how we rise. This week's poem is a call to remember: creation is resistance, and beauty is survival. EZ This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair…That is how civilizations heal. –...

Wherever I am, I dress with intention. These two poems— one outward, one inward—celebrate color, spirit, and the sacredness of self, from Vallarta’s streets to the soul’s sanctuary. E.Z. Dressing For God I wake up slow Not because I am tired But because the world is about to become a...