Here you will find the Poem On Hurricane Jackson of poet Alan Dugan
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 Panhellenic games and had to take the back roads home, but someone else, his perfect youth, laureled in newsprint and dollar bills, triumphs forever on the great white way to the statistical Sparta of the champs.
