gallows platform covered with moldy jockstraps and sweat shirts. Mark is adjusting the noose. “Well, here you go.” She locks her hands behind Jhonny’s buttocks, puts her forehead against him, smiling into this eyes she moves back, pulling him off the platform into space. . . His face swells with his blood. . . Mark reaches up with one lithe movement and snaps Jhonny’s neck. . . sound like a stick broken in wet towels. A shudder runs down Jhonny’s body. . .one foot flutters like a trapped bird. . .Mark has draped himself over a swing and mimics Jhonny’s twiches, closes his eyes and sticks his tongue out. . . Jhonny’s cock springs up and Mary guides it up her cunt, writhing against him in afluid belly dance, groaning and shrieking  with delight. . .sweat pours down her body hair hangs over her face in wet strands.”Cut him down, Mark,” she screams. Mark reaches over with a snap knife and cuts the rope, catching Jhonny as he falls, easing him onto his back with Mary still impaled and writhing. . . She bites away Johnny’s lips and nose and sucks out his eyes with a pop. . . . She tears off great hunks of cheek. . . .
Now she lunches on his prick. . . . Mark walks over to her and she looks up from Johnny’s half-eaten genitals, her face covered with blood, eyes phosphorescent. . . .
Mark puts his foot on her shoulder and kicks her over on her back. . . . He leaps on her, fucking her insanely. . . they roll from one end of the room to the other,
pinwheel end-over-end and leap high in the air like great hooked fish.

the dropper like a Chinese flower. . . he push home the heroin and the boy who jacked off fifty years ago shine immaculate through the ravaged flesh, fill the outhouse with the sweet nutty smell of young male lust. . . How many years threaded on a needle of blood? Hands slack on lap he sit looking out the winter dawn with the cancelled eyes of junk. The old queer squirm on a limestone bench in Chapultepec Park as Indian adolescents walk by, arms around each other’s necks and ribs, straining his dying flesh to occupy young buttocks and thighs, tight balls and spurting cocks.
Mark and Johnny sit facing each other in a vibrating chair, Johnny impaled on Mark’s cock.
‘‘All set, Johnny?”
“Turn it on.”
Mark flips the switch and the chair vibrate. . . . Mark tilt his head looking up at Johnny, his face remote, eyes cool and mocking on Johnny’s face. . . . Johnny scream and whimper. . . . His face disintegrates as if melted from within. . . . Johnny scream like a mandrake, black out as his sperm spurt, slump against Mark’s body an angel on the nod. Mark pat Johnny’s shoulder absently. . . . Room like gymnasium. . . . The floor is foam rubber, covered in white silk …. One wall is glass. . . . The rising sun fills the room with pink light. Johnny is led in, hands tied, between Mary and Mark. Johnny sees the gallows and sags with a great “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” his chin pulling down towards his cock, his legs bending at the knees. Sperm spurts, arching almost vertical in front of his face. Mark and Mary are suddenly impatient and hot. . . . They push Johnny forward onto the

spermament,” howls the Medjoub. . .He stands up screaming and black blood spurt solid from his last erection, a pale white statue standing there, as if he had stepped whole across the Great Fence, climbed it innocent and calm as a boy climb the fence to fish in th forbidden pond-in a few seconds  he catch a huge catfish-The Old Man will rush out of a little black hut cursing, with a pitchfork and the boy run laughing across the Missouri field-he find a beatiful pink arrowhead and snatch it up as he runs with a flowing swoop of the young bone and muscle-(his bones blend into the field, he lies dead by the wooden fence a shotgun by his side, blood on frozen red clap seeps into the winter stubble of Georgia ). . . The catfish billows out behind him. . .He come to the fence and throw the catfish over into blood-streaked grass. . .the fish lies squirming and squawking- vaults the fence. He snatch up the catfish and disappear up a flint-studded red clay road between oaks and persimmons dropping red-brown leaves in windly fall sunset, green and dripping in summer dawn, black against a clear winter day. . .the Old Man scream curses after him. . .his teeth fly from his mouth and whistle over the boy’s head, he strain forward, his necks-cords tight as steel hoops, black blood spurt in one solid piece over the fence and he fall a fleshless mummy by the the fever grass. Thorns grow through his ribs, the windows breaks in his hut, dusty glass-silvers in black putty-rats run over the floor and boys jack off in the dark musty bedroom on summer afternoons and eat the berries that grow from his body and bones, mouths smeared with purple red-juices. . . The old junky has found a vein. . .blood blossoms in

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?”
“Noooooooooo.”
“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