DUANE LOCKE lives isolated in a two-story decaying house in the sunny Tampa slums, as estranged as an alien, not understanding his neighbors' customs, costumes, language (some form of postmodern English). The egregious ugliness of his area has recently been mitigated by the police who put up bright orange and bright yellow posters to advertise the location as an al fresco mall for drugs. His alley is the dumping ground for stolen cars, and thus one advantage of living in this neighborhood, if one's car is stolen, he can step out in the back and pick it up. Another advantage is that the burglars are afraid to come in on account of the muggers. Taxi drivers and pizza deliverers are afraid to come into this neighborhood. His few visitors arrive with fear and trembling.
PoetryRepairShop 03.08:089
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DUANE LOCKESolitude and Sweet Sleep in a Place Rarely Visited
I enter a place where ferns green the earth
Between cypress,
And there are blue-striped,
Fuzzy gold caterpillars
Turning into salt and oceans
Inside the curls
Of webbed fern leaf tips.
The hidden vibrations of metamorphoses haunt
The rain-bowed insect spotted air,
My life
Is holy and whole.
Tonight I will sleep on the ground,
And dream
The dreams
That the ferns
Have dreamed.
copyright 2003 DUANE LOCKE
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