MiPOesias Magazine

Luc Simonic is a Denver Colorado native - only ever having left for several shorts stints IN OH MI. He still hides from his mother (among others) under this alternate spelling of his given name. His mother is a wonderful person and this is rude behavior on Luc's part. However, he could have presented the strong excuse that this change calls to bear the un-americanized french acadian version of said given names, which would have been a vastly partial truth. His plan was to publish his author selected volume: "primary reader", but wisdom had it that there were simply too many small and/or shitty poems in it - so he will wait awhile and add more. In the mean time, he is working to put together a shorter book whose working title is "jar leg" - there are many more poems in it about cats and his wife's anatomy than his leg in a jar, so that's good. Luc is involved in things such as workin', (rollin'), (luc u!), (hoops), and (OtR). He also enjoys reading for (miPOradio). As a footnote, he sends blessings to whoever would have them.

sand volleyball

california: don't like it much don't mind it much it's
just that, so many people may drown - become drowned out

by double use'd like cocaine parables coursing through
veins - sordid blood through crystallized cholesterol

spikes - loose bolts - wind tunnel - fighter jet wing -
always almost ready to move - moving - no real option -

- we, have forgotten them - having transgressed if they
be virtuous - we, then, are citizen kane treading non-pot

able water hundreds of feet above hollywood boulevard -
yes - death valley is a salty sea - we drown there too -

yes - we all die & yes - i own a share of the response
ability - but no - i'll keep pointing at you since i'm

not moving, - but i am pointing!: - my arm is thirty three
inches pit to index - my M4 arm - five inch diameter - my

machine gun as if double jointed like california's rapid
fire children - barracked en masse over oil fields across

wide seas; dreaming of death valley like eden paradise -
the promised land is where they - these half fallen half

forgotten angels, suckle on fractions of inches, & halve
half seconds with famined diligence, in american engine

ered boots - standard issue shorts - you precious small
est lengths & shortest expanses of time, memorialized

by a company wide volleyball match after perpetual
days, promising weeks months of every migrained aware

ness - that war & burning sand reflects -- it's a hundred
& twenty one in the dark - it's daytime - now - every

officer & soldier must rotate through - it's one match
over one day - no score - we ask: how many thousands of

photos were snapped - aye! - the best way to show mom
who got blowed the fuck up -- casualties of war lookin'

gay as girls - men playing volleyball in promised land's
death valley -- i dare not say: like california, - where

rally scoring goes to twenty one & won by two - where
winner stays - or - a short break & then switch sides