Biography of Alan Dugan
Alan Dugan was an American poet. His poetry is known for its plain and direct language, though it is supported by technical skill; it is generally trenchant and ironic in its criticism of American life and received ideas, and in its frank sensuality alike.
Dugan grew up in Jamaica, Queens in New York City and served in World War II, experiences which entered his poetry though he avoided simple autobiography or confession. He later lived in Truro on Cape Cod in Massachusetts, where he directed the Fine Arts Work Center and was a mentor and teacher to younger poets for decades.
Dugan's work was published in successive numbered collections under the simple title Poems.
Alan Dugan was married to the artist Judith Shahn. He died on September 3, 2003, of pneumonia at age 80.
Alan Dugan's Works:
Poems 2 (1963)
Poems 3 (1967)
Poems 4 (1974)
Poems Five: New and Collected Poems (1983)
Poems Six (1989)
Poems Seven: New and Complete Poetry (2001)
This page is based on the copyrighted Wikipedia Alan Dugan; it is used under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. You may redistribute it, verbatim or modified, providing that you comply with the terms of the CC-BY-SA.
Alan Dugan Poems
On A Seven-Day Diary
Oh I got up and went to work and worked and came back home and ate and talked and went to sleep. Then I got up and went to work
I know but will not tell you, Aunt Irene, why there are soap suds in the whiskey: Uncle Robert had to have
On Looking For Models
The trees in time have something else to do besides their treeing. What is it. I'm a starving to death
Love Song: I And Thou
Nothing is plumb, level, or square: the studs are bowed, the joists are shaky by nature, no piece fits any other piece without a gap
On Hurricane Jackson
Now his nose’s bridge is broken, one eye will not focus and the other is a stray; trainers whisper in his mouth while one ear
After your first poetry reading I shook hands with you and got a hard-on. Thank you. We know that old trees
The skin ripples over my body like moon-wooed water, rearing to escape me. Where could it find another
On The Civil War On The East Coast Of Th...
Because of the unaccountable spirit of the troops oh we were marched as we were never marched before
Wall, Cave, And Pillar Statements, After...
In order to perfect all readers the statements should he carved on rock walls, on cave walls, and on the sides of pillars so
Untitled Poem - I
Once, one of my students read a book we had. She was doing a history assignment on the decline and fall of the Roman Empire
How We Heard The Name
The river brought down dead horses, dead men and military debris, indicative of war
Plague Of Dead Sharks
Who knows whether the sea heals or corrodes? The wading, wintered pack-beasts of the feet
Untitled Poem - Ii
Speciously individual like a solid piece of spit floating in a cuspidor I dream of free bravery
Swing Shift Blues
What is better than leaving a bar in the middle of the afternoon besides staying in it or not having gone into it in the first place
Fabrication Of Ancestors
For old Billy Dugan, shot in the ass in the Civil War, my father said.
The old wound in my ass
has opened up again, but I
am past the prodigies
of youth’s campaigns, and weep
where I used to laugh
in war’s red humors, half
in love with silly-assed pains