shoots down a white hospital corridor. . . out along a wide dusty street between palm trees, whistles out across the desert like a bullet ( vulture wings husk in the dry air ),a thousand come at once in outhouses, bleak public school toilets, attics, basements, treehouses, Ferris wheels, deserted houses,  limestone caves, rowboats, garages, barns, rubbly windy city outskirts behind mud walls ( smell of dried excrement ) . . . black dust blowing over lean copper bodies. . .ragged pants dropped to cracked bleeding bare feet. . . ( place where vultures fight over fish heads ). . . by jungle lagoons, vicious fish snap at white sperm floating on black water, sand files bite the copper ass, howler monkies like wind in the trees ( a land of great brown rivers where whole trees float, bright colored snakes in the branches, pensive lemurs watch the shore with sad eyes ) , a red plane traces arabesques in blue substance of sky, a rattlesnake strike, a cobra rear, spread, spit white venom, pearl and opal chips fall in a slow silent rain through air clear as glycerine. Time jump like a broken typewriter, the boys are old men, young hips quivering and twiching in boy-spasm go slack and flabby, draped over an outhouse seat, a park bench, a stone wall in Spanish sunlight, a sagging furnished room bed ( outside red brick slum in clear winter sunlight ) . . . twitching and shivering in dirty underwear, probing for a vein in the junk- sick morning, in Arab cafè muttering and slobbering-the Arabs whisper “Medjoub” and edge way- ( a Medjoub is a special sort of religious Moslem lunatic. . .often epilect among other disorders ). ” The Moslems must have blood and jissom. . . See, see where Christ’s blood streams in the


pockets, a graceful hoodlum ballet. He jerk his head and
Johnny walk ahead of him into the bedroom. Mary follow. “All right, boys,” she say, sitting down naked on a pink silk dais overlooking the bed. “Get with it I”
Mark begin to undress with fluid movements, hiprolls, squirm out of his turtle-neck sweater revealing his beautiful white torso in a mocking belly dance. Johnny
deadpan, face frozen, breath quick, lips dry, remove his clothes and drop them on the floor. Mark lets his shorts fall on one foot. He kick like a chorus-girl, sending
the shorts across the room. Now he stand naked, his cock stiff, straining up and out. He run slow eyes over Johnny’s body. He smile and lick his lips. Mark drop on one knee, pulling Johnny across his back by one arm. He stand up and throw him six feet
onto the bed. Johnny land on his back and bounce.
Mark jump up and grab Johnny’s ankles, throw his legs over his head. Mark’s lips are drawn back in a tight snarl. “All right, Johnny boy.” He contracts his body,
slow and steady as an oiled machine, push his cock up Johnny’s ass. Johnny give a great sigh, squirming in ecstasy. Mark hitches his hands behind Johnny’s shoulders, pulling him down onto his cock which is buried to the hilt in Johnny’s ass. Great whistles through his teeth. Johnny screams like a bird. Mark is rubbing his
face against Johnny’s, snarl gone, face innocent and boyish as his whole liquid being spurt into Johnny’s quivering body. A train roar through him whistle blowing . . . boat
whistle, foghorn, sky rocket burst over oily lagoons . . .penny arcade open into a maze of dirty pictures . . .ceremonial cannon boom in the harbor . . . a scream


“Barefoot boy, check thy bullheads with the madame.” He looks at hte ceiling, hand behind his head, cock pulsing.” So what I shoul do ? Can’t shit with that dingus up me. I wonder is it possible to laugh and come at the same time ? I recall, during the war, at the Jockey Club in Cairo, me and my asshole buddy, Lu, both gentlemen by act of Congress . . . nothing else could have done such a thing to either of us. . . So we got laughing so hard we piss all over ourselves and the waiter say :” You bloody hash-heads , get out of here !” I mean, if I can laugh the piss out of me I should be able to laugh out jissom. So tell me something real funny when I start coming. You can tell by certain premonitory quiverings of the prostate gland. . . ” She puts on a record , metallic cocaine be-bop. She greases the dingus , shoves the boy’s leg over his head and works it up his ass with a series of corkscrew movements of her fluid hips. She moves in a slow circle, revolving on the axis of the shaft. She rubs her hard nipples across his chest. She kisses him on the neck and chin and eyes. He runs his hands down her back to her buttocks, pulling her into his ass. She revolves faster, faster. His body jerks and writhes in convulsive spasms.”Hurry up, please” she says. “The milk is getting cold.”He does not hear. She presses her mouth against his. Their faces run together . His sperms hits her breast with light, hot licks. Mark is standing on the doorway. He wears a turtleneck black sweater.Cold, handsome , narcissistic face. Green eyes and black hair. He looks at Jhonny with a slight sneer, his head on one side, hands on his jacket


down and middle finger up his ass. As she suck down
toward the root of his cock she tickle his prostate mockingly. He grin and fart. She is sucking his cock now in a frenzy. His body begins to contract, pulling up toward his chin. Each time the contraction is longer.
“Wheeeeeeee!” the boy yell, every muscle tense, his
whole body strain to empty through his cock. She drinks
his jissom which fills her mouth in great hot spurts. He
lets his feet flop back onto the bed. He arches his back and yawns.
Mary is strapping on a rubber penis: “Steely Dan III
from Yokohama,” she says, caressing the shaft. Milk
spurts across the room.
“Be sure that milk is pasteurized. Don’t go giving me some kinda awful cow disease like anthrax or glanders or aftosa. . . ”
“When I was a transvestite Liz in Chi used to work
as an exterminator. Make advances to prettv bo vs for
the thrill of being beaten as a man. Later I catch this
one kid, overpower him with supersonic judo I learned
from an old Lesbian Zen monk. I tie him up, strip off
his clothes with a razor and fuck him with Steelv Dan I.
He is so relieved I don’t castrate him literal he come all over my bedbug spray.”
“What happen to Steely Dan I?”
“He was tom in two bv a bull dike. Most terrific vaginal grip I ever experienced. She could cave in a lead pipe. It was one of her parlor tricks.”
“And Steely Dan II?”
“Chewed to bits by a famished candiru in the Upper
Baboonsasshole. And don’t say ‘Wheeeeeeee!’ this time.”
“Why not? It’s real boyish.”


Her breasts are high and small with erect nipples. She slips off her underpants. Her pubic hairs are black and shiny. He sits down besides her and reaches for her breast. She stops his hands.                                                                                                       ” Darling. I want to rim you,” she whispers.                                                                       “No, not now.”                                                                                                                    “Please. I want to.”                                                                                                      “Well, I’ll go wahs my ass.”                                                                                            “Aw shucks now, it ain’t dirty.”                                                                                          “Yes it is. Come on now Jhonny boy.”  “All right, getdown.” He gets down on his knees and leans forward, with his chin on the bath mat. “Allah,” he says. He looks
back and grins at her. She washes his ass with soap and
hot water sticking her finger up it.
“Does that hurt?”
“Come along, baby.”  She leades him into the bedroom. He lies down on his back and throws his legs back over his head, clasping elbows behind his knees.  She kneel down and caress the backs of his thights, his balls, running her fingers down the perennial divide. She push his cheeks apart, lean down and begin licking the anus, moving her head in a slow circle. She push at the sides of the asshole, licking deeper and deeper. He close his eyes and squirm. She lick up the perennial divide. His small, tight balls. . . . A great pearl stands out on the tip of his circumcised cock. Her mouth closes
over the crown. She sucks rhythmically up and down, pausing on the up stroke and moving her head around in a circle. Her hand plays gently with his balls, slide


is angered the charge of it will blow his monocle across the room. Many an ill-starred actor has felt the icy blast of Slashtubitch’s dislpeasure: “Get out of my studio, you cheap four-flushing man! Did you think you to pass a counterfeit orgasm on me! THE GREAT SLASHTUBITCH! I could tell if you come by regard the beeg toe.Idiot! Mindlsess scum!! Insolent baggage! Go pedle thy ass and know that it takes sincerity and art, and devotion , to work for Slashtubitch. Not shoddy trickery , dubbed gasps, rubber turds and vials of milk concealed in the ear and shots of Yohimbine sneaked in the wings.”(Yohimbine,derived from the bark of a tree growing in Central Africa, is the safest and most efficient aphrodisiac. It operates by dilating the blood vessels on the surface of the skin, particularly in the genital area.) Slashtubitch ejects his monocle.It sails out of sight, returns like a boomerang into his eye. He pirouettes and disappears in a blue mist, cold as liquid air. . . fadeout. . .

On screen. Red haired , green-eyed boy, white skin with a few freckles. . . kissing a thin brunette girl in slacks. Clothes and hair- do suggest existenzialist bars of all the world cities. They are seated on low bed covered in white silk. The girl opens his pants with a gentle fingers and pulls out his cock which is small and very hard. A drop of lubricant gleams at its tip like a pearl. She caresses the crown gently: “Strip, Jhonny.” He takes off his clothes with swift sure movements and stands naked before her, his cock pulsing. She makes a motion for him to turn around and he pirouettes across the floor parodying a model, hand on hip. She takes off her shirt.


accomplished on the verbal level. . . . He arrived at this
method through observing that The Listener—The Analyst—was not reading the mind of the patient. . . . The patient—The Talker—was reading his mind. . . . That is
the patient has ESP awareness of the analvst’s dreams and schemes whereas the analyst contacts the patient strictly from front brain. . . . Many agents use this approach—they are notoriously long-wTinded bores and bad listeners.. . .
“Gentlemen I will slop a pearl: You can find out more about someone by talking than btj listening”
Pigs rush up and the Prof, pours buckets of pearls into a trough.. . .
“I am not worthy to eat his feet,” says the fattest hog of them all.
“Clay anyhoo.”

A . J . ’ S A N N U A L   P A R T Y
A.J. turns to the guests. “Cunts, pricks, fence straddlers, tonight I give you—that international-known impressario of blue movies and short-wave TV, the one,
the only, The Great Slashtubitch!”
He points to a red velvet curtain sixty feet high.
Lightning rends the curtain from top to bottom. The Great Slashtubitch stands revealed. His face is immense,immobile like a Chimu funeral urn. He wears full evening dress, blue cape and blue monocle. Huge grey eyes with tiny black pupils that seem to spit needles. ( Only the Coordinate Factulist can meet his gaze.) When he



hanging in the air like an earth-bound ghost. Diseuse: (canned heat tenor). “Find the weakest baboon.”
Frontier saloon: Fag Baboon dressed in little girl blue dress sings in resigned voice to tune of Alice Blue Gown: “I’m the weakest baboon of them all.”
A freight train separates the Prof, from the juveniles. . . . When the train passes they have fat stomachs and responsible jobs.. . .
Students: “We want Lottie!”
Pro f: “That was in another country, gentlemen. . . .
As I was saying before I was so rudely irrupted by one of
my multiple personalities … troublesome little beasts . ..
consider the Ancient Mariner without curare, lasso, bulbocapnine or straitjacket, albeit able to capture and hold a live audience. . . . What is his hurmp gimmick?
He he he he . . . He does not, like so-called artists at
this time, stop just anyhodij thereby inflicting unsent
for boredom and working random hardship. . . . He
stops those who cannot choose but hear owing to already existing relation between The Mariner (however ancient) and the uh Wedding Guest.. . .
“What the Mariner actually says is not important. . . .
He may be rambling, irrelevant, even crude and rampant senile. But something happens to the Wedding Guest like happens in psychoanalysis when it happens
if it happens. If I may be permitted a slight digression
. . . an anlyst of my acquaintance does all the talking patients listen patiently or not. . . . He reminiscences . . . tells dirty jokes (old ones) achieves counterpoints of idiocy undreamed of by The County Clerk. He is illustrating at some length that nothing can ever be


Prof: “And now, gentlemen, where was I? Oh yes,
Ma Lottie . . . She wake shivering in the gentle pink
dawn, pink as the candles on a little girl’s birthday cake,
pink as spun sugar, pink as a sea-shell, pink as a cock
pulsing in a red fucking light. . . . Ma Lottie . . . hurumph . . . if this prolixity be not cut short will succumb to the infirmities of age and join her daughter in formaldehyde.
“The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge the poet . . . I should like to c^ll your attention to the symbolism of the Ancient Mariner him self.”
Students: “H im self the man says.”
“Thereby call attention to his own unappetizing person.”
“That wasn’t a nice thing to do, Teach.”
A hundred juvenile delinquents . . . switch blades clicking like teeth move at him.
Pr o f: “Oh Landsakes!” He tries desperately to disguise himself as an old woman with high black shoes and umbrella. . . . “If it wasn’t for my lumbago can’t
rightly bend over I’d turn them offering my Sugar Bum
the way baboons do it. . . . If a weaker baboon be attacked by a stronger baboon the weaker baboon will either (a) present his hrump fanny I believe is the
word, gentlemen, heh heh for passive intercourse or ( b ) if he is a different type baboon more extrovert and well-adjusted, lead an attack on an even weaker baboon
if he can find one.”
Dilapidated Diseuse in 1920 clothes like she sleep in
them ever since undulates across dreary neonlighted
Chicago street . . . dead weight of the Dear Dead Days


across the river. A Nigra hangs from a cotton wood
in front of The Old Court House . . . whimpering
women catch his sperm in vaginal teeth. . . . ( Husband
looks at the little changeling with narrow eyes the color of a faded grey flannel shirt. . . . ‘Doc, I suspect it to be a Nigra.’
The Doctor shrugs: ‘It’s the Old Army Game, son.
Pea under the shell . . . Now you see it now you don’t. . . .’)
“And Doc Parker in the back room in his drugstore
shooting horse heroin three grains a jolt—‘Tonic,’ he
mutters. ‘It’s always Spring.’
“ ‘Hands’ Benson Town Pervert has took up a querencia in the school privy ( Querencia is bullfight term. . . .
The bull will find a spot in the ring he likes and stay
there and the bullfighter has to go in and meet the bull
on his bull terms or coax him out—one or the other).
Sheriff A.Q. ‘Flat’ Larsen say ‘Some way we gotta lure
him outa that querencia.’ . . . And Old Ma Lottie sleep
ten years with a dead daughter and home cured too,
wakes shivering in the East Texas dawn . . . vultures
out over the black swamp water and cypress stumps. . . .
“And now gentlemen—I trust there are no transvestites present— he he—and you are all gentlemen bv act
of Congress it being only remain to establish you male
humans, positively no Transitionals in either direction
will be allowed in this decent hall. Gentlemen, present
short arms. Now you have all been briefed on the importance of keeping your weapons well lubricated and
ready for any action flank or rear guard.”
Students: “Hear! Hear!” They wearily unbutton their
flies. One of them brandishes a huge erection.