An Interview with Harold Norse, Part 4: This is going to be Psycho Drama

In this short clip Norse and I are completely relaxed and
in animated conversation.

Norse answers the question I posed at the close of part 3 by
reminding me of a discussion we had before I moved in.

“I said Rob, this is going to be Psycho Drama; not literature class’

My voice in section 4 of the Interview is younger and I detect
a Southern accent.

It’s Bobby’s voice.

It’s odd to hear an alternate’s voice.

It’s also odd  to read an account of an evening I spent
in 1987 with writer, Darell Yates-Rist .

Rist was traveling the United States to write Heartlands,
his book about being gay in America.

I agreed to give him a night tour of San Francisco.

Rist published Heartlands in 1992.

He describes the Cottage I shared with Norse on Albion Street.

Rist died from HIV in 1993.

Part four of the interview with Norse picks up where part three ended.

It’s brief and ends when Norse leaves to feed a parking meter.

An Interview with Harold Norse, Part 4.

An Interview with Harold Norse, Part 1.

An Interview with Harold Norse, Part 2.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

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April Poetry Month – 50 Words Story – Inner voice

Beautiful Work by Carolina Russo

YesterdayAfter

Oaks

Inner Voice

The calming sound of nature was only interrupted by the noise of my steps hitting the ground walking up the hills following an unknown trail. Suddenly the thoughts  in my mind were freed and unlocked while breathing wilderness in the wind. Let go was the insistent inner voice I was hearing.

-CR

©Copyright Carolina Russo -yesterdayafter.com

#AprilPoetryMonth2016

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‘My Friend the Wind’ from the Classic Poets Corner

I’m honored that Kendall Person chose my image to illustrate this poem. Thank you Kendall!

The Neighborhood

My Friend the Wind

written by Andrea L. Harris

The wind sat on my lap today
And told me what he’d heard.
When asked where he obtained his knowledge,
He replied, “Oh, a little bird.”
He said that he has seen it all
While drifting through the sky.
He’s seen some live and laugh and love,
And he’s seen some die.
“Now Wind,” I uttered a humble bliss,
“Why are you perched on me?”
The wind replied, “I’ve come as a friend
To show you what I see.
“I’ll tell you Miss, with tears in your eyes,
Why must you feel so sad?
Just come with me, I’ll set you free,
You’ll see all the riches you’ve had.”
“But I’ve had no riches,” said I to the wind,
“My life is filled with sorrow.”
The wind replied, “Nay, my lad,
You’ll understand all tomorrow.”
So, off we drifted, soaring through…

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