In 1977 I lived in New Haven, Connecticut.
There are hundreds of reasons I loved my time in New Haven.
One was Manhattan was an hour away by train.
I took Amtrak to New York at least twice a month to hang out in the Village.
One weekend in the Fall of 1977 I stopped for a drink at Uncle Charlie’s on Greenwich Avenue.
I met a hot guy who invited me home.
He had a studio apartment with a bed, a chair and a nightstand.
On the nightstand was a book of poems by Harold Norse, Carnivorous Saint.
A devouring saint?
I sat on the bed and opened the book.
I’d never seen poetry like this before.
I said good-bye to the hot guy, raced to the bookstore, got Carnivorous Saint, and hopped the train back to New Haven.
I was smitten.
The poetry in Carnivorous Saint was political, sexy and full of humor.
Norse used his poetry to define gay liberation in language that included working class men.
Norse is a working class man who declares that he is not a Man:
There is more to my story about Harold Norse but that is for another post.
To learn more about the poet, Harold Norse, click here: