David Russell Wagoner is an American poet who has written many poetry collections and ten novels. Two of his books have been nominated for National Book Awards.
Born in Massillon, Ohio and raised in Whiting, Indiana from the age of seven, Wagoner attended Pennsylvania State University where he was a member of Naval ROTC and graduated in three years. He received an M.A. in English from the Indiana University in 1949 and has taught at the University of Washington since 1954 on the suggestion of friend and fellow poet Theodore Roethke.
Wagoner was editor of Poetry Northwest from 1966 to 2002 and his play An Eye For An Eye For An Eye ... more »
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David Wagoner Poems
At The Door
All actors look for them-the defining moments When what a character does is what he is. The script may say, He goes to the door And exits or She goes out the door stage left.
This is a Wonderful Poem
Come at it carefully, don't trust it, that isn't its right name, It's wearing stolen rags, it's never been washed, its breath Would look moss-green if it were really breathing, It won't get out of the way, it stares at you
The Junior High School Band Concert
When our semi-conductor Raised his baton, we sat there Gaping at Marche Militaire, Our mouth-opening number.
Wallace Stevens On His Way To Work
For A Row Of Laurel Shrubs
The Shooting of John Dillinger Outside t...
Chicago ran a fever of a hundred and one that groggy Sunday. A reporter fried an egg on a sidewalk; the air looked shaky. And a hundred thousand people were in the lake like shirts in a laundry.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
At The Door
All actors look for them-the defining moments
When what a character does is what he is.
The script may say, He goes to the door
And exits or She goes out the door stage left.
But you see your fingers touching the doorknob,
Closing around it, turning it
As if by themselves. The latch slides
Out of the strike-plate, the door swings on its hinges,
And you're about to take that step
Over the threshold into a different light.
For the audience, you may simply be
Disappearing from the scene, yet in those few seconds
You can reach for the knob as the last ...