In November

By: Harold Norse

Harold Norse with Allen Ginsberg. Photo: haroldnorse.com

In November I lost my food stamps, the computer said I did not exist
In November I lost my best friend who said I did not exist
In November I lost my manuscripts and felt as if I did not exist
In November I sent 2 postcards to my mother who wrote back saying
she had not heard from me and DID I STILL EXIST?

In November I paid the telephone bill and received a final notice
for non-payment
In November my girlfriend accused me of unreality and infrequency
with a tendency to dematerialize on weekends and holidays
even Jewish ones and stormed out leaving a sinkful of dirty
dishes and linen blackened by her feet, souvenirs of blood
and tobacco burns.

In November my checks bounced, mail stopped arriving, the toilet
clogged, the cat chocked, my poems were rejected, I got worms,
the clap and psoriasis of the anus, all I needed was an
earthquake to prove my destiny was not to be overlooked,
and one was long overdue according to the latest reliable
heavenly and scientific sources.

In November I looked for all my published works in City Lights
Bookstore and found only my early translations of Belli,
I did not exist on the bookshelves altho’ a thesis to prove
that I did exist was written by some kid in Arkansas, 300 pages
that nobody ever read called Orpheus Unacclaimed: Harold Norse,
So What?

In November I gave a poetry reading which was so well advertised
one day in advance that 5 people actually came, 4 of them
drunk and cantankerous, the fifth had lost his way to the
toilet, and one of the drunks kept asking, “Tell me how
to win! I’m sick of being a loser!” and I answered from
years of eminence: “Be invisible!”

In November when I crossed the street with the light a grayhaired
man in a Cadillac looking like Spiro Agnew tried to run me
down and swore because he missed me, something about Law and
Order.

In November I screamed at the neighbors upstairs who played stereo
hard rock all day and night that crashed thru the floorboards
but they said I was a liar it was music not noise and I was a
fink for complaining and the one who practiced karate over my
bedroom from midnight until 3am said why didn’t I take up yoga
and gain deliverance from bad karma so they went on playing
their rock and hammering on the floor and stomping in boots
and breaking bricks until 4am as I did not exist and
In November I gave thanks for all my blessings without a turkey, with

one good ear, high cholesterol, 59¢, 145 lbs. and 2 good balls.

Poetry Foundation: A poet and memoirist, Harold Norse is best known for his associations with the Beat Generation and the gay liberation movement. Mentored by William Carlos Williams, Norse wrote poetry that employs the American idiom of everyday speech to reflect on themes of travel, identity, and sexuality. Williams once called Norse “the best poet of his generation.”