buen fortuna…

lucky sob

some nights are for kings.
tracing some outline laid down
before language captured
thought; held for ransom by
becoming the means for communication,
rather than the ends they
were designed to be.

nights for kings are
different. essentially unknown makin’
stirred together with any temporary final
product unknowable. brilliant
sunlight never looked so good,
diffused through our night for kings.

our realms spread just far enough
for isolation;
kings do not reign in unison.
what might be alchemaic tendencies
supported by dumb luck,
ascensions seemingly without
origin, denying any claim
of mathematical certainty.

waking up as a king
on a night for kings means
finding fortune in tiny craters;
turning moments of prior misfortune
into gold; even better that it
all must be real, despite
circumspection that it’s
expertly faked; in itself,
that ain’t a flaw.
elmyr de hory said it;
he knew it was as true before
as it was after as it was now.

periodically arising/uprising as a
king makes up for a lot in life.
us real sob’s gotta win every
so often;
even if what we win don’t quite
make up for the cost.
when you’re the king
it doesn’t matter what anything costs;
what matters is that you
are king.

whatever fortune
this entails, some nights
are made for kings.


Dedicated to moments of inspiration, and the resultant freedom when your number comes up. Can’t argue with an invincible night. JL, as always, but when it works, it fucking works.

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