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)
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Alan Dugan Poems
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 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
The skin ripples over my body like moon-wooed water, rearing to escape me. Where could it find another
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
How We Heard The Name
The river brought down dead horses, dead men and military debris, indicative of war
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
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
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
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
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
God, I need a job because I need money. Here the world is, enjoyable with whiskey, women, ultimate weapons, and class!
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
Plague Of Dead Sharks
Who knows whether the sea heals or corrodes? The wading, wintered pack-beasts of the feet
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 quoted Freud: "Life is pain."