Led by Isabela, the underworld army from Omégaville has marched across the land. Isabela has won the coveted Succubus of the Year Award and is about to be interviewed on the Tonight Tonight Show. Part 1 is here.
Four wise media personalities filed onto the set,
wearing numbered T-shirts.
Number one took a sip of water,
cleared her throat, and began.
Our viewers have noticed your vanguard:
four headless mules with fire
shooting from their necks,
and matching riders
with fireworks for heads.
Isabela wore a mid-grey lounge suit,
accessorized with a blood-stained riding crop.
That’s right, they’re on a smoko
in the car park.
Number two continued, relay-style.
We expected … a more traditional
apocalypse, the usual horsemen—
famine, war, pestilence, whatever.
Isabela flicked her riding crop
at the monarch butterfly
which had followed us from Rio Preto.
These are the times of the new nights,
when everything’s combustible,
when everything is burning in quadruplicate:
the fiery ardor of matter,
furnaces that smelt the mind,
bodies set ablaze,
hearts become infernos.
While the panel of celebrities
whispered amongst themselves,
the show cut to an ad break.
let your casual acquaintances
know exactly where they stand.
The expert next in sequence
looked down at his tee shirt,
but was lacking basic numeracy skills.
Isabela’s late quartet was on his mind.
We lightly understand
the flammable synthetics of the body,
and Einstein’s matter-energy ambivalence,
but the other fires of which you spoke
are outside our experience.
Would you care to shed some light
on molten minds and hearts flambé?
Isabela stifled a yawn.
No. I wouldn’t.
Her award was a gilded statuette,
and Isabela verified the sharpness of the horns
before she threw it at the butterfly, missed,
and destroyed the teleprompter.
She accepted gracefully,
thanked the riders and the mules
for their unwavering support,
me, for keeping records, cryptic and indecipherable,
and asked the studio audience to choose between
a world of peace and evensong,
and a world of passionate confusion.
I called out for peace discretely,
but excitement won.
The passionate are noisier
than the peaceful in every situation.
Well, she said and raised one hand
cupped open (the butterfly landed nervously),
let me tell you what that ardent future holds.
But first, some tropical fabrications
from our sponsor—Fashion Caliente.
to continue after falling off a small cliff
I don’t think it’s product placement if the product doesn’t exist, or if the product is embedded in an ad which is part of the narrative, i.e. diegetic. But if the companies happened to exist and they wanted to pay me, I would accept.
artwork cloud theory, part above