Different Skies
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RiteZac Gvirtzman


struts around the pole of the subway carriage, evoca

protruding posterior, she’s poised . stick it out – eyes a

flutter – show dem what ma gave you

and one at a time, each one in his time, they will make their mark.

as if it was predicated by some design but it was not,

and that’s why i was there in the first place

on the subway car in the night with a gang of men (adolescents

really, boys who were on the cusp of becom ) who i had never

met before

and of course it was New York, it had to be amidst the tyranny

of lights that belittle every creatur and ghoul in their


it was new york in the –’s, the nameless time when i was a

young man when i was an unknown and carefre

(following in guthrie’s trainsteps , the night vagabonds)

scuttling throu the dark on the way to queens, an unspecified


5 guys, or maybe 6. they had the same purpos , or so it seemed

to the interloper in the carriage. not many other passengers on

and off, cretins and insomniac

so there was a degree of privacy to the scena , lady occupied

the men’s attentions fully as if the spot were following. the

rump glistenin as it offerred up

and i could see, could feel emanat from her chest. yes,

softlight glow , but i was alone in that respec


init began basement bar where horns blew ferosc lines n ther

skins palpitat while steelgut strummed furios , black and white

keycrunchs allatonce

the joyful noise , and with a strong dose of manhattana attitud

the owner with his white dog. this is a place for cats, so to

speak … it was more to listen – but not for her

she desired of the dance , desired of the wilde and wide legge

and, i know that she willed of free reignd and nudimost

libertie true as a patriot

of the grass, the mudd, the stone (ah, tho concrete was our

stone, and the dirt, the glass …

and flashed a nipple to a gent across the bar i glimpsed in the

mirror, premonit -

while the band SHHHHHHHed and so


standing by the steps, West Village pavement, tabacco and the

wiff of zippo fluid (faint but per vas ive), catching a breezer

as out of nowhere came sturming past , and if i were a dog no

doubt i would have smelled them comin

strike of convers like a flint spark , ignition and now already

there is no turning but he doesn’t know that yet , throws the

book, the puppy look and later the sink at her as in his chest

cavit implording


<that would have been the end of it, could have just washed my

hands, turned on my heels, cut my losses, shouldacouldawoulda

just said fukit and gone back to the dinkdingy island i came

from – no my mother is from the big country but i am from the

garden country , or the interlocking broken cobwebs specifical

contrar , irresistable and now i was in it, now the traffic was

sweepin me and the lamposts speak in tongues>


an endgame has its pleasures

and i thought back to the taste of foreign lips of a girl i had

met before in the other place, that this was her place or she

was this place – and of a sleepless night of durak and later

sugar poker , my over-long virginie , sprat i was those years

and of my voyage as the train sped through the night , wheels

grinding rails underneath


SMACK a hand, what a hand came down

let that sound ring out in your mind for a moment

a wet one . and hard, almost a ‘crack’

again – SMACK another hand

and around the pole, she dillydallieSM

ACK no, he wouldn’t join in the action SMA

but you should see pain and delight streak across her brow like

lightning, when they branded her buttoc

(the name of the god cut fresh and deep into her flesh)




not a shrine or a temple by name but a hotel room somewhere

between heaven and earth on an unknown intersection of the

eastern boro, of queens at the center of the space the B.E.D.

curtains, carpets, ashtray, a water closet (that served as an

ingestion chamber , hard surfaces, mirror, taps, paper … the

lost details that he purposely clouded his mind with

windows overlooking urban wasteland, for she was quiet now

though not silent but that quietude that equates to her silence

for she is never silent

the stuffy air of the room, a room which breathed of those

human odours of the body and of the need to cleanse now came a

certain unmistakabl neferai as the approached hour passed into

an emptiness of time , the ritual time of ancient humanity, the

brutal, sacrificia time, the destroyer

yet we remained


host of ghostia , spectra , refracti

a voice without a body , barely a hoarse whisper

in the corner curled , unable to push the air

nor raise from beneath a dead-weight-loss

our boy bares his eyes to the inevita

neither accepting, neither denying

in stasis phantasmagorai


their prey (not prey , a girl yea barely womanly . she was

spreadeagled upon the altar ,

face down ass up

a mess of hair either end limbs draine and eyes emptie

soft pliable anima

burning hot consumpt


fucked her one after another , each in his own time to

his own pleasure and to the others for them to see and force-

birth the realitie

impaled , a thousand times over her dignity (as the telling is

a bed of nails to her memoria

while one lay still , possum in amongst a pack of coyots .

witnessed the gods man festation

caught the dredair , and inhaled till his spine chilld

floating somwhere conscie


” i’m going to get some coffee . i’m taking your money ”

light. in the sky, in the mouth and then smoke

black . sugar . funny green paper

rising morning damp and the life that never ceased pretends

to wake up, wake up wak


lady coming to , spinning lightly as her motor whirs

satisfied that Hades sleeps another season

and now to sew anew , to the health of the stalk , to the glory

of the promist harvest , the warmth rising from crackt soil


portuna time and the hero returns to rescue his maiden , with

salty eyes and the smell of the living , faint but perceptib

as to scatter unwelcome the mob of waning consortia

meek , she follows by the nose until a subway car and further

to the light , morning beckon , and into arms


a bottle of tequila later , when she asked me how i felt about

it over eggs and hashbrowns i said i’d wanted to punch her in

the face . instead i loved her deeply and without justification


“you’re taking this pretty heavy” – night

lady’s eyes on the subway train – day


Manhamania sweept throu their being , togethering for a time

remembring back those days its the youngentleness

of wanting , passionine , playfu – despit the deman s of

un com promise Demeter