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whinnying horses bare great  yellow teeth,  cows bellow,
dogs howl, copulating cats scream like babies, a  pen of
huge hogs, spines bristling, give  a great  Bronx cheer.
Browbeck  the  Unsteady  has  fallen  to  the  sword  of
Young  Seward,  clutches  at  blue  intestines  spurting
from  an  eight-inch  gash. Young  Seward cuts  off Brow-
beck's cock and holds it pulsing in the smoky  rose sun-
rise....
  Browbeck screams... subway brakes spit ozone....
  "Stand back, folks.... Stand back."
  "They say somebody pushed him."
  "He  was  weaving  around  unsteady  like  he couldn't
see good."
  "Too much smoke in the eyes, I guess."
  Mary  the  Lesbian  Governess has  slipped to  the pub
floor  on  a bloody  kotex.... A  three-hundred-pound fag
tramples her to death with pathic whinnies....
  He sings in hideous falsetto:

  He is trampling out the vintage cohere the grapes of
                                    [wrath are stored,
He has loosed the fatal lightning of his terrible swift
                                               [sword.

  He  pulls  a gilded  wooden sword  and chops  the air.
His corset flies off and whistles into the dart board.
  The  old   bullfighter's  sword   buckles  on   bone  and
whistles into  the heart  of the  Espontaneo, pins  his un-
consummate valor to the stands.

  "So  this  elegant  faggot  comes to  New York  from Cunt
Lick, Texas, and he is the  most piss  elegant fag  of them
all. He is  taken up  by old  women of  the type  batten on
young  fags,  toothless  old  predators  too  weak  and too
slow  to  run  down  other  prey.  Old  moth-eaten  tigress
shit sure turn into a fag eater.... So this  citizen, being
an  arty  and  crafty  fag,  begins making  costume jewelry
and  jewelry  sets.  Every  rich  old  gash in  Greater New
York  wants  he  should  do  her  sets,  and  he  is making
money,  21, El  Morocco, Stork,  but no  time for  sex, and
all the  time worrying  about his  rep..., He  begins play-
ing  the  horses,  supposed  to  be  something  manly about
gambling  God  knows  why,  and  he  figures it  will build
him up to  be seen  at the  track. Not  many fags  play the
horses,  and  those that  play lose  more than  the others,
they  are  lousy  gamblers  plunge in  a losing  streak and
hedge  when  they  win...  which   being  the   pattern  of
their  lives.
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