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Arts and Entertainment: Revealing Hidden Beauty with Wood Turner Don Duden
August 13th, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: "Twelve Artists" Celebration and Exhibit
August 1st, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: Satire or Documentary?
July 27th, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: Invitation to the World of Artist Mike Segal
July 15th, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: The Bold Imagery of Artist Willie Smith
July 1st, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: From Tree to Classic Chair - the Craftsmanship of H. F. Wells
June 15th, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: New Inspirations - Gernhardt Raku Pottery Exhibit
June 5th, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: Illuminating Life with Brush and Pen - the Artistry of Peggy Herrick
May 27th, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: Capturing Joy - the Art of Joan Morgan
May 15th, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: "Downtown Cedar Key" Exhibit Opens at Arts Center
May 2nd, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: Island Hotel Hosts Art Exhibit
May 2nd, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: Multi-artist Exhibit Opens at Arts Center Gallery
April 4th, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: Double Your Pleasure at Arts Center Exhibit
March 7th, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: Enchanted Worlds - the Art of Joyce Patti
March 2nd, 2004

Arts and Entertainment: Thinking in Three Dimensions - the Art of Chick Schwartz
February 22nd, 2004

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A Remembrance

A Remembrance

Robin McClary

Luke Zilles died here in Cedar Key about two weeks ago. I doubt that many people knew him because he was a reclusive man and a bit of a grouch. He lived in the house where he died, on Hodges where it is met by Rye Key Drive. The death was from natural causes, but he was sadly alone for the moment of passing. I have been told that he was either born in Panama or lived there as a child. He was educated at universities in New York State and was a retired Professor of English from the State University of Albany.

I met Luke at the Cedar Key poet's workshop. He was a longtime friend of Bill Stalter, another Cedar Key poet who died several years ago. Like Bill Stalter, Luke was an extraordinary poet. He had a published book of poetry called, Conch of Bees. He was also published in The Saturday Review and the New Yorker magazines.

Beyond these scattered thoughts, most of which I learned from some friends of his, I knew very little about him. What I did know was that he was a true wordsmith. He made the language a living thing that marched to the cadences that he sang. When I asked him about his techniques, he growled at me like a cornered wolf. He told me more than once that he, "didn't want to teach me nothing," but I learned anyhow.

I will miss him.

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