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. His work appears hundreds of journals (print and online) and numerous collections of his poetry have been published as well. He is also a painter and photographer.
His recreational activities are drinking wine, listening to old operas, and reading postmodern philosophy.
(Photo and Bio provided by Duane Locke.)
Poetry by Duane LockeJANUARY POEMS, NO. 18 In a land of dry wells, No one could understand Why the water departed. Everyone stared down into the dry wells, Saw only white, wrinkled sand. Why did the water leave Was the question Creasing the forehead Of each silent questioner. The few that heard the answer, Became frantic, Went beserck, Ran wildly, trying to find A donkey to kiss, But all donkeys Had been chased away long ago. JANUARY POEMS, NO. 19 In a small German, White sausage town, A man wearing a forlorn hat Plays a hurdy-gurdy. He plays the hurdy-gurdy Because he is hungry. If he was offered food, He would refuse. If he were not hungry, He could not play the hurdy-gurdy. JANUARY POEMS, NO. 20 When Parmigianino painted St. Catherine, He stressed the beauty of her breasts, But Catherine selected the au courant hedonism Of being tortured on a wheel Rather than being touched by a lonely hand. JANUARY POEMS, NO. 21 In Rome's Panthenon, Metal doves fly Over Raphael's tomb, But Raphael's bones Cannot hear The flutter of the metal wings.. JANUARY POEMS, NO. 22 I always thought the ancients in error When the ancients portrayed Love As a young boy, a blind cupid, Who stood on a pedestal and shot arrows. Love should be portrayed As an old man with his face buried in his hands, Sitting naked and shivering alone in a cold room.