Ode on Arguing with Myself with Comments by My Mother, Hamlet, Philip Marlowe, and My Mother-in-Law

Are you out of your mind?
Bitch, what’s your problem?
Can you believe you said that?
Do you want to burn in hell?
Exactly who do you think you are?
Fuck you and your little dog, too.
Go for it. You know you’ll tank.
Hell, who cares. We’re all drowning.
I mean, what’s the point?
Jail would be a paradise.
Keep at it, and you’ll end up in a black hole.
Let it go, Domino.
Make up your mind, if you have one.
No, nyet, non, niet, nada, nothing, rien,
Oh, you think you’re so smart, all evidence to the contrary.
Please, give me a minute to think.
Quiet, you’re driving me crazy.
Repeat after me, I will not smile. I will not smile.
Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark.
Turn yourself in, stupid.
Undercover operatives have stolen your mind.
Vamoose if you can, but the borders are closed.
What chance do you have?
Exit stage left.
Your pants are so tight I can see your religion.
Zup, girl—all you got is your doubt.

Soul Ode

Abacus of summer and its endless arithmetic of sweat
Boarder in the guest house of the body
Celestial cistern of 100,000 storms; city slicker in a bumpkin’s zoot suit
Divine cruller with extra sugar on top
Exotic dancer in the delirium roadshow
Fright wig fiasco on fire
Graveyard sniffer
Hoarder of names for God, Gog, Brahma, Rama lama ding dong
Insect collector, beetle queen, lepidopterist of the restless scene
Jalopy on a midnight moonshine run
Klieg light on the deepest night
Little Richard screaming at heaven’s gate
Myopic reader of Lord Loser’s tarot
Nothing doing something somewhere sometime
Opposing thumb of the right side of the brain
Pincushion with a million knife wounds
Quick change artist on a highway to nowhere
Reviler of order, raccoon in the garbage cans of the American empire
Star map of my inner galaxies
Turbulent plane ride to the other side of time
Undercover cop in the Underworld
Violet cap of a Renaissance prince
Why why why why?
Xerxes facing his broken bridge
Yellow sheet cake at the birthday of doom
Zip line through time’s jungle of stardust and rhyme.