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Poetry |
2 Poems: Duane Locke
In Tolfa, the dead Still walk The narrow cobblestone streets, Dip their hands In black paint, Press their handprints Onto the walls, But the dead Do not have The strength Of the living. Their pressing Does not produce handprints, But produces smears That drip And become mysteries. The walls of the houses In Tolfa are spotted With these smears, And these smears I what makes Tolfa a sacred city. THE BEGINNING OF AN AUSTRALIAN PINE AT SANIBEL Small tree, Not as high as the length of my hand, Tiny Australian pine, Called by the ecologists an alien and weed, But I love you, tiny Australian pine. I'm not unique, The only one of my kind, Australian pine, And I know if I can love you so much, Others also can love you. I've benefited so much from loving you, And I know, I not unique, So others can benefited from loving you. Now, helicopters come down to tie ribbons around the bark Of the older pines, a signal that these aliens and weeds must be cut down. But I sit here, filled with love, Feel inside my arms the spread of your future growth. I sit here and become your greenness. I am not unique, If I can love you And become loved by you, Others can do the same. I love you, tiny Australian pine. |
Duane Locke, Doctor of Philosophy in English Renaissance literature, Professor Emeritus of the Humanities, was Poet in Residence at the University of Tampa for over 20 years. Has had over 2,000 of his own poems published in over 500 print magazines such as American Poetry Review, Nation, Literary Quarterly, Black Moon, and Bitter Oleander. Is author of 14 print books of poems, the latest is WATCHING WISTERIA ( to order write Vida Publishing, P.O. Box 12665, Lake, Park, FL. 33405-0665, or Amazon or Barnes and Noble). Since September 1999, he became a cyber poet and started submitting on-line, and since September 1999 he has added to his over 2,000 print acceptances with 1,384 acceptances by e zines. He is also a painter. Now has exhibitions at Thomas Center Galleries (Gainesville, FL) and Tyson Trading Company (Micanopy, FL) Recently a one-man show at Pyramid Galleries (Tampa, FL) Also, a photographer, has had 116 of his photos selected for appearance on e zines. He photographs trash in alleys. Moves in close to find beauty in what people have thrown away. He now lives alone in a two-story decaying house in the sunny Tampa slums. He lives isolated and estranged as an alien, not understanding the customs, the costumes, the language (some form of postmodern English) of his neighbors. The egregious ugliness Of his neighborhood has recently been mitigated by the esthetic efforts of the police force who put bright orange and yellow posters on the posts to advertise the location is a shopping mall for drugs. His alley is the dumping ground for stolen cars. One advantage Of living in this neighborhood, if your car is stolen, you can step out in the back and pick it up. Also, the burglars are afraid to come in on account of the muggers. His recreational activities are drinking wine, listening to old operas, and reading postmodern philosophy. |
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