Saturday, January 21, 2012


A pretty girl is like a harmony of sounds keeping the fire alive @ night.

Like a disco ball superstar spinning in a fusion of chemistry and rhyme. Flower buds coming alive in 1979
Like the dancing Sativa, the constellations reborn, and the sometimes wise vintage wine.
Like the unforgettable taste of love Spring only knows to give in abundance
when it electrifies.
Like the erotic poetica the muse weaves from unfinished threads and leaves carelessly scattered about within the petals on your bed
and the sun spotted sheets.

A pretty girl is like sunshine for the ages
and a breath of life for the one she decides upon.

Jul. 31, ‘99
Victor Millan

Saturday, January 14, 2012


Me and some friends drove into a small town in northern New Mexico but the action soon became rotten sour so we left; and on the way out we stopped for lunch and ate at a little restaurant known as Casa de Cruzes.

We walked in and right away we could tell Jesus was checkin’ it out. This place I mean.
Crosses were hanging on all the walls.
The ceiling alone had about fifteen of them kinda sprawled out,
nailed down.
How ironic, I thought.

I especially remember this one that had a long, sad Jesus face to it but our food came and I saw that it was good and I ate of it.
As I chewed I looked around and realized that I’d never seen so many goddam crosses in one place
not even church.
I guess someone wanted to make real sure this place was securely blessed ~

holy like.

There was the velvet Jesus ~ Unlikely superstar but always the King.
Paintings of crosses ~ Local artists giving St. Peter the sleazy wink.
Twisted metal crosses gracing the masticating I.
Chandeliers and the hung Christ giving up face n flesh
Day and night.

Crosses in your face. Burrito on the table.

Lunch was divine but the hills were burnt charcoal black.
Hot sopapillas & honey for dessert.

Taos, NM. ‘95/‘96 – 6/11
Victor Millan