Other Poems by:

Duane Locke


A shop window,
Shaped to simulate
A cathedral window,
A window without the expected
White, brown sheep,
Brown-streaked pasture rocks,
But a window stained
With faint, covert rainbow hues,
So the gazer who gazed through
The faint rainbow stains
Would feel, as he had been
Conditioned by prior myths,
A covenant established between him
And now divine capitalistic commerce
That no harm would come
When he spent his needed money
On a commodity he did not need
But must have to be fashionable.
In the shop window were displayed
Purple pom-pons and purple-dyed
Ostrich feathers in propeller-shaped vases.
The pom-pons, ostrich feathers
Were assembled to resemble
Warplanes arranged for bombing.
The shadows that fell
Were tinted darkly to
Resemble smart bomb shapes.
In between the false shadows
Were scraped easily recognized shapes
To connote phalli with high IQ's.
The window display must have
Attracted the gazers, for this was
The most crowded store in the mall.
Some mistook the pom-pons for pom-poms.


"Mannequins have become 
The model for imitation," Henri Pollès.
In the show window of the store
Named "Nature Lovers Outfitters,"
Stood a tall mannequin, short precise haircut,
Light blue, white undertoned summer suit,
A pale orange, precisely knotted tie
According to instructions printed in Esquire.
This man with a corpse-colored face
Gripped passionately the steering wheel
Of a bright red convertible BMW;
The other hand, the left, extended
To press one finger into the plumb flesh
Of a blonde-wigged girl's cheek.
The false blonde wore a long, ankle-length
Nineteen-century fluffy crinoline dress.
She wore pale pink gloves.
In her hands she help two products
Currently on sale, thirty percent off:
Carbon colored slip-on rain pants
And an ultramarine rain jacket with hood.
In front of the man, the girl, the car
Were scattered simulated beach sand
Made from dyed sawdust of cypress.
On the sand were placed blue crabs of plastic.


After observing with note book
And tape recorder the social life
In shopping malls, whether or not,
The mall simulated a quaint nineteen
Century village, or a 1930 Depression
Downtown, or the Firenze Palazzo Vecchio,
Or Milano's glass-topped arcade,
Or the simulated Venice of Las Vegas.
I reached the same conclusion:
What makes for the lack of isolation,
The establishment of  social extraversion, is due
To an inevitability of the human condition,
The misunderstanding of each other.
If it were not for this misunderstanding
Of the other, there would be more
Hermits, Recluses, exclusionists,
More hatred in our current society
Where hatred, overt and covert,
Is now in abundance, a surplus.
Misunderstanding of each other
Is the basis for a coherent,
Consensual, well-functioning society.


"I saw a charming dress made of corks,"
Guillaume Apollinaire, 1927
At the shopping mall
Where the mayor
In a political speech
Had just proclaimed,
"It is better for a coherent society
To have outrageous sartorial fashions
And tattooed bodies 
Than to have outrageous philosophies
And outrageous thinking,"
An unseen natural thing, sharp
Pointed, razor edged, came out
Of ambush, a hedge, to slip through
A small hole on the knee section
Of a pair of cut-off faded blue jeans
To rip a much larger tear
That only provided a petite adornment.
Now, this much larger split
From knee to ankle established
An adornment that would be celebrated
When viewed by shoppers
In the shopping mall that was decorated
With simulated snow to simulate
A rural Norwegian backwoods village.
When the boy, his nose pierced
With a wedding ring of diamonds
And gold, passed by with his
Split, flapping open faded blue jeans
The shopper's eyes would spin
In admiration, spin from a bleached
White to the blue contact lens
That covered natural brown eyes;
Energized by spinning eyes
The shoppers would rush to spend. 


"Ever since humanity passed from
Nakedness to clothing, 'senseless
And nonsensical' fashions have played
The role of wise nature," Helen Grund
Crowded, the simulated red brick
Streets of a shopping mall built
To simulate the bygone downtown
Depression days center with its
Salvation Army black-suited band
And Salvation Army singers
Providing visions of the forthcoming
Promised land of  backyard barbeques.
Much-sauced beefs and legal beer.
It was a simulation of a time
When there was no shopping malls,
The community gathered
At the center of the town
Where at the time the five and dime
Stores ruled from behind Gothic façades.
This current and temporary shopping mall
Simulated the bygone life
Before the miracle television
Brought a new dispensation
As a surrogate for life into the world.
Television joined 
With movies, churches, colleges 
To serve  everyone with the possibility
Of living an existence of pure fiction.
The consumers came to the new
Shopping mall dressed in costumes, 
The grande dame dressed as cocotte,
The elegant man walked
With a plebian ape-like slough
With his false hair
And his accentuated rear,
The blue jeans whitened 
where fat buttocks protruded.
The consumers all conformed
To appear au courantly casual,
Appearing apparently aleatorical,
As a mask, a disguise
To hide their constrained,
Regulated lives, their lickspittle,
Toady existence of being
Puppets of popular opinion
And a power structure
That was invisible to them.

Biographical Note:

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,
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.
C)opyright 2007 Duane Locke - All Rights Reserved

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