THE KING OF COINS

Orange is Not a Colour, 2025

The King of Coins sits atop the deck, face-up, smiling, sure it’s ruling everything beneath it, sure it’s above all the others, forgetting a shuffle is coming to move the game along; tyranny is like that.

Amerika locked and loaded, ready to hit the streets, set to aim first, ask forgiveness later, singing, “Everything is going to Hell; it’s a curse, it’s going to get worse; everything is going to Hell.”*

All across Arkansas, the rude boys wear their baseball caps backwards, boasting how smart they are while they use their hands to block the sun, never once thinking there could be another way.

Vultures gather in the trees to pick at their own feet, watching, waiting, knowing there’s cultural suicide in every autocrat, a deceit of ego that fills graveyards and fields; no one comes out to play.

*“Everything is going to Hell…”, is taken from a song by Peter Stampfel