Alan Dugan

(12 February 1923 - 3 September 2003 / New York City, New York)

Fabrication Of Ancestors - Poem by Alan Dugan

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
and half not feeling them.
I have to sit up with
an indoor unsittable itch
before I go down late
and weeping to the storm-
cellar on a dirty night
and go to bed with the worms.
So pull the dirt up over me
and make a family joke
for Old Billy Blue Balls,
the oldest private in the world
with two ass-holes and no
place more to go to for a laugh
except the last one. Say:
The North won the Civil War
without much help from me
although I wear a proof
of the war’s obscenity.


Comments about Fabrication Of Ancestors by Alan Dugan

  • (3/27/2017 10:11:00 AM)


    THIS POEM IS RADICAL

    EDGY
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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 16, 2010



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