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Arts and Entertainment: Cedar Key Arts Center News
January 2nd, 2003

Arts and Entertainment: The Flora La Florida Exhibit
January 1st, 2003

Arts and Entertainment: Fritz Seyfarth Memorial Exhibition
December 27th, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: First Annual Open House at the Gernhardt Studio
December 17th, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: Exquisite Simplicity - The Art and Artistry of Ed Levin
December 15th, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: Doubled Pleasure at the Cedar Key Arts Center
December 8th, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: Cosmic Tips to Holiday Shopping
November 23rd, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: Art Exhibit and Competition
November 16th, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: A LIfe in Photographs
November 3rd, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: Action at Robbie Blake`s Quarternote
October 7th, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: Plein-Air Exhibit Opens
October 6th, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: The Art of Henry Gernhardt
September 6th, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: Poetic Pairing
August 26th, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: Jazz at the Quarternote on August 18
August 15th, 2002

Arts and Entertainment: A Love Story Beyond Forever
August 15th, 2002

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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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