Duane Locke, Doctor of Philosophy, English Renaissance literature,
Professor Emeritus of the Humanities, was Poet in Residence at the University of Tampa for over 20 years.
Has had over 5,000 poems published. As of  November, 2006 5,726 poems published.
Over 2,000 were published in print magazines, such as American Poetry Review, Nation, and Bitter Oleander. 
In September 1999, he became a cyber poet, added over 3,000 poems published in E zines.
Is the author of 14 print books of poetry, and in 2002, added 3 E books,

The Squids Dark Ink,  From a Tiny Room, and  The Death of  Daphne. The entire Spring 2004 issue of the magazine Bitter Oleander  is
devoted to a 92 page interview with Duane Locke and will include sixty of his poems. 
In August  2004, e book, 45 poems, Observations, from Poetic Inhalation.
 
In August 2004, feature poet in Adagio Poetry Quarterl.
In December 2005, a 28 page interview in Penhimalaya, plus many poems.

His work is included among the neglected poets,  such as H.D., Amy Lowell, Weldon Kees,
In Dan Schneider's renown Cosmoetica.
He is also a painter, having many exhibitions, such as at the city art museum in Gainesville, Florida. A recent book, 
 Extraordinary Interpretations by Gary Monroe, published by University of Florida Press,

Has a discussion of Duane Locke's paintings. His work is currently on exhibition at the Polk Museum of Art, and will be added to the permanent collection.
Also, a photographer, now has over  278 photos in e zines.  He does close-ups of trash tossed away in alleys and on sidewalks. 
Now, he has completed a series called "mystic vegetation." and "The Goddess Inanna." He is currently doing what he calls Surphotography, 
and photographing nature, birds, insects,Etc.
 
He is listed in  Who's Who in America, 2006 (Marquis.)
His old biographical notes, published many time, are now obsolete. The notes stated that he lived in an old decaying house in the sunny Tampa slums, 
populated largely by drug dealers and the homeless.

  
The house was condemned by the city of Tampa inspectors, what he calls the "Tampa Gestapo", and after his living at this location for fifty years, 
he was forced to leave within six days.
The forced move was due to the fall of the bungalow in his large back yard.

The bungalow contained a priceless literary scholarly library which is now under debris. An army of inspectors descended and decided he could no longer 
live in his home, so Duane Locke left Tampa to relocate in Lakeland, Florida.  He lives by a lake abundant with wild life.  The fall was a "Fortunate Fall"
for he now lives in a more desirable and pleasant location.  The only disadvantage is that he can find no trash to photograph, no broken beer bottles on sidewalk, 
no litter as it was in Tampa.
For more information on Duane Locke, click on Duane Locke on Google,  There are about a half-million entries under his name.
On MSN, only 60,000 entries.


 

E MAIL TO DAMNISO LOPEZ
(This place)

This place
Of  hollyhocks
And holly

Is as complex
As silence.

Homer would have put a God
Or Goddess as gatekeeper. Perhaps
An immaculate conceived divinity
Such as Athena, and  bleached away
The colors.


Richard Crashaw would have
Dressed the flowers
In a nun's habit.

Wallace Stevens would
Have circulated apparitional.
Silver-white girls in a fog.
Girls speaking Spanish.


I will leave the garden alone,
Let it be
As is.


E MAIL TO DAMNISO LOPEZ

The night's weak winds
Has an owl.

She had white-gold hair,
Pale blue eyes.

I search for her,
But find pretty spiders.

She loves someone else,
Her grandson.

She has a love,
I have a love: owls, spiders.


E MAIL TO DAMNISO LOPEZ

A
Wash of crimson
Wilts
In twilight,
The drip
Into deadness,
A black horizon.

Dim light
Slides off a shoulder
To be
Jagged-edged light
To outline
A hip
And a leg.

I have something urgent
To say
To Her,
But I could
Not say it.


What is hidden
Won't come out.
The urgent words
Will soon be forgotten.

Vague salt spray
Smears
The dark lizards
On the shadowed
Stucco wall,
The shadows broken
Into fragments
By lichen
Growing out of cracks
In stucco.,


E MAIL TO DAMNISO LOPEZ
(Multiplicities)


Multiplicities
Within
           Untied
Render
The distant city an afterglow.

The holes
In the clouds
Gather around
Our joined hands.

The gulf
With its
White orchid
Tipped waves
Looks like
The hair
Of Helen.

Behind us,
Not far way,
Coconut palms,
                        Sugarcane,
And a field of strange
White stones.


E MAIL TO DAMNISO LOPEZ


A  field, no ruts,
No road,

Bare spots of black mud,
Etched
With the mystic runic language
Of wild turkey tracks,

And sacralized with the tiny crimson
Globes
On the thin crimson stems
Of the plant called "Sundews."

Somewhere as if from nowhere
Comes the brown sounds
Of brown thrashers.

A sound, unidentified, a sound
Like the knots
In a knotted fragment of a rope
Make when the rope speaks.

This is my cathedral,
Larger than the unfinished cathedral
At Sienna,
Larger than the finished cathedral
At Rome.