Alan Dugan

How We Heard The Name By Alan Dugan

How We Heard The Name By Alan Dugan

How We Heard The Name The river brought down dead horses, dead men and military debris, indicative of war or official acts upstream, but it went by, it all goes by, that is the thing about the river. Then a soldier on a log went by. He seemed drunk and we asked him Why had he and this junk come down... »

Wall, Cave, And Pillar Statements, After Asoka By Alan Dugan

Wall, Cave, And Pillar Statements, After Asoka By Alan Dugan

Wall, Cave, And Pillar Statements, After Asoka In order to perfect all readers the statements should he carved on rock walls, on cave walls, and on the sides of pillars so the charm of their instruction can affect the mountain climbers near the cliffs, the plainsmen near the pillars, and the city pe... »

Prison Song By Alan Dugan

Prison Song By Alan Dugan

Prison Song The skin ripples over my body like moon-wooed water, rearing to escape me. Where could it find another animal as naked as the one it hates to cover? Once it told me what was happening outside, who was attacking, who caressing, and what the air was doing to feed or freeze me. Now I wake u... »

Untitled Poem – Ii By Alan Dugan

Untitled Poem – Ii By Alan Dugan

Untitled Poem – Ii Speciously individual like a solid piece of spit floating in a cuspidor I dream of free bravery but am a social being. I should do something to get out of here but float around in the culture wondering what it will grow. »

On A Seven-Day Diary By Alan Dugan

On A Seven-Day Diary By Alan Dugan

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 and worked and came back home from work and ate and slept. Then I got up and went to work and worked and came back home and ate and watched a show and ... »

Untitled Poem – I By Alan Dugan

Untitled Poem – I By Alan Dugan

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 and crying. When I asked her why she said Because. All those people died. I said that if you start to cry for the dead You won’t have much time for anyt... »

Monologue Of A Commercial Fisherman By Alan Dugan

Monologue Of A Commercial Fisherman By Alan Dugan

Monologue Of A Commercial Fisherman “If you work a body of water and a body of woman you can take fish out of one and children out of the other for the two kinds of survival. The fishing is good, both kinds are adequate in pleasures and yield, but the hard work and the miseries are killing; it is a ... »

Swing Shift Blues By Alan Dugan

Swing Shift Blues By Alan Dugan

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 because you had a decent woman to be with? The air smells particularly fresh after the stale beer and piss smells. You can stare up at the whole sky:... »

Nomenclature By Alan Dugan

Nomenclature By Alan Dugan

Nomenclature My mother never heard of Freud and she decided as a little girl that she would call her husband Dick no matter what his first name was and did. He called her Ditty. They called me Bud, and our generic names amused my analyst. That must, she said, explain the crazy times I had in bed and... »

Two Quits And A Drum, And Elegy For Drinkers By Alan Dugan

Two Quits And A Drum, And Elegy For Drinkers By Alan Dugan

Two Quits And A Drum, And Elegy For Drinkers 1. ON ASPHALT: NO GREENS Quarry out the stone of land, cobble the beach, wall surf, name it “street,” allow no ground or green cover for animal sins, but let opacity of sand be glass to keep the heat outside, the senses in. Then, when time’s Drunk, reelin... »

On Hurricane Jackson By Alan Dugan

On Hurricane Jackson By Alan Dugan

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 listens to itself, clenched like a fist; generally shadowboxing in a smoky room, his mind hides like the aching boys who lost a contest in the Panhelleni... »

Remembering An Account Executive By Alan Dugan

Remembering An Account Executive By Alan Dugan

Remembering An Account Executive He had a back office in his older brother’s advertising agency and understood the human asshole. He turned his father’s small inheritance over and over on hemorrhoid ads between three-hour lunches at the Plaza every day and cocktails at five-thirty with different dre... »

On Being A Householder By Alan Dugan

On Being A Householder By Alan Dugan

On Being A Householder I live inside of a machine or machines. Every time one goes off another starts. Why don’t I go outside and sleep on the ground. It is because I’m scared of the open night and stars looking down at me as God’s eyes, full of questions; and when I do sleep out alone I wake up soa... »

Poem By Alan Dugan

Poem By Alan Dugan

Poem After your first poetry reading I shook hands with you and got a hard-on. Thank you. We know that old trees can not feel a thing when the green tips burst through the tough bark in spring, but that’s the way it felt, that’s the Objective Correlative between us poets, love: a wholly ... »

Love Song; I And Thou By Alan Dugan

Love Song; I And Thou By Alan Dugan

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 or pinch, and bent nails dance all over the surfacing like maggots. By Christ I am no carpenter. I built the roof for myself, the walls for mysel... »

Plague Of Dead Sharks By Alan Dugan

Plague Of Dead Sharks By Alan Dugan

Plague Of Dead Sharks Who knows whether the sea heals or corrodes? The wading, wintered pack-beasts of the feet slough off, in spring, the dead rind of the shoes’ leather detention, the big toe’s yellow horn shines with a natural polish, and the whole person seems to profit. The opposite appears whe... »

Drunken Memories Of Anne Sexton By Alan Dugan

Drunken Memories Of Anne Sexton By Alan Dugan

Drunken Memories Of Anne Sexton The first and last time I met my ex-lover Anne Sexton was at a protest poetry reading against some anti-constitutional war in Asia when some academic son of a bitch, to test her reputation as a drunk, gave her a beer glass full of wine after our reading. She drank it ... »

Prayer By Alan Dugan

Prayer By Alan Dugan

Prayer God, I need a job because I need money. Here the world is, enjoyable with whiskey, women, ultimate weapons, and class! But if I have no money, then my wife gets mad at me, I can’t drink well, the armed oppress me, and no boss pays me money. But when I work, Oh I get paid!, the police are cour... »

Internal Migration; On Being On Tour By Alan Dugan

Internal Migration; On Being On Tour By Alan Dugan

Internal Migration; On Being On Tour As an American traveler I have to remember not to get actionably mad about the way things are around here. Tomorrow I’ll be a thousand miles away from the way it is around here. I will keep my temper, I will not kill the dog next door, nor will I kill the next-do... »

On The Civil War On The East Coast Of The United States Of North America 1860-64 By Alan Dugan

On The Civil War On The East Coast Of The United States Of North America 1860-64 By Alan Dugan

On The Civil War On The East Coast Of The United States Of North America 1860-64 Because of the unaccountable spirit of the troops oh we were marched as we were never marched before and flanked them off from home. Stupid Meade was after them, head on to tail, but we convinced him, finally, to flank,... »

Fabrication Of Ancestors By Alan Dugan

Fabrication Of Ancestors By Alan Dugan

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 and half not feeling ... »

On Looking For Models By Alan Dugan

On Looking For Models By Alan Dugan

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 man myself, and thirsty, thirsty by their fountains but I cannot drink their mud and sunlight to be whole. I do not understand these presences that drink for months in t... »