A day that began with a 911 call

Jewelry Art by Meredith Arnold ♠ Poetry by Peter V. Dugan IMG_2150


Sitting at the bar and grill,

the cable news played on . . .


Suffering from aphasia,

the lily-white oracle let out a yowl

and the evil one, an unworthy

moth-eaten egotist, summoned Herod

and his hard hat Hessians,

the hyphenated genetic mutations

of eclectic bred fugitives whose DNA

was unearthed in the nuthatch ossuary

of the pre-Inca arch and mixed

with the victims of death ray assailants

to embark on a witch hunt to prevent

Amber Erato, the gypsy moth

freehand-firebrand ballerina,

(always bejeweled and adorned

in the latest Moscow neckwear)

from securing air shaft arsenals

of retrofit ivory meteorites.


The walls began closing in around me.

A child’s nose gushes blood,

a woman belches in my ear

and I may be addicted to manicures . . .


I have too much faith in everyone’s humanity

to go big and edit out the oxygen debt

of the merciless, bad egg mime,

writhing town drunk and his lost boys of Bolivia

who committed the notorious year-end arson,

clad in their no-nonsense taste test high tops

and oil drum swimwear; arrested and convicted,

only to be found guilty of failing to pay

the shoeshine estate tax and the airing

of cheesy trailer park donkey porn.


How did I not know Jack the Ripper

was never captured?


While sea-dogs on safari, swineherd huntsman

and other East Rockaway romantics conspire

with ground crew iron riveters overhead in the i cloud;

show a semblance of sentient thought.

by serving oyster stew in an anchovy fishbowl.


Write this down in stone if you have to,

” I’ve already seen that movie.”


So, please send someone to drive me home.

I’m scared.







she stares at the night sky

rolling blackness blots out light

waits for the right words


lighting flashes thunder crashes

checks the star charts

winds whip and swirl


looks for constellations

unending rain falls

and seeks an alignment


deluge overflows river banks and levees

of planets to inspire her

torrents flood streets and avenues


a meteor shower of words

cascades and rushes over

flashes before her eyes


and through buildings and homes

leaves impact craters

washes away cars and trucks


on blank pages

debris and driftwood

filled with her creation


animals and people

become flotsam and jetsam

of a poem.



High Wire


She tiptoes the tightrope

at night

balancing food and drink

between tables

at the local bar and grill.


A wolves’ den of ravenous

thirsty alphas



bitchy she-wolves

who bark and snarl

their orders.


Always gracious with a smile,

she aims to please.


Performs cartwheels, pirouettes

and flips,

working for two-fifty an hour

plus tips.


At home she’s just

a thirty-three old

single mom

balancing rent, groceries

and necessities

for her child.


As a teenager she never dreamed

of joining a circus.


See more art from Comedian Artist Instructor Meredith Arnold at www.mereditharnold.com

Peter V. Dugan host the poetry reading series Celebrate Poetry at the Oceanside Library, Oceanside NY  and have written 4 collections of poetry. His poems have been published in several print and online publications, including Contemporary American Voices, Long Island Quarterly, Aberration Labyrinth, Grub Street, Literary and Arts Magazine and Aitia, Philosophy-Humanities Magazine.

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