A poet born this day, 1923

Alan Dugan, d. 2003, late of Truro, Massachusetts.

I have a few Dugan volumes on the shelf.  He tends to abruptness which is refreshing in poetry.  (I will note, as an aside, after a day in Wellfleet, home of another fine poet, Stanley Kunitz, Sarah and I discovered a very fine restaurant in Truro called Blackfish.)

Blackfish in Truro, MA

In honor of Dugan’s birthday, prompted by an FB notification from Tim’s Used Books in Provincetown, I have opened his last volume, Poems Seven: New and Complete Poetry, at random and share what is offered there. Enjoy!

“On Breeding, From Plutarch”

After the victory he loped
through the town, still bloodily
unwounded, grinning like a dog
aroused, and with his sword
hanging from his hand.
The Spartans yelled, “Go screw
What’s-her-name just as you are,
crazy and stinking with war!
Her husband will be proud,
or say he is, when she,
yielding, conceives a noble child.”



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