“When
I started writing poetry in my senior term of high school - I was sixteen - I
felt in touch with a secret language. It gave me a sense of identity. I
suddenly discovered I wasn't alone.” – Gerard Malanga
Born in New York City on this date
in 1943, Malanga is a world-renowned poet and a noted filmmaker, photographer,
curator and actor.
He’s also a founding editor – with
Andy Warhol – of Interview Magazine,
a collaboration that grew out of working in all phases of Warhol's creative
output in silkscreen painting and filmmaking.
Malanga acted in many of Warhol’s films and choreographed the music of
the “Velvet Underground” for Warhol's multimedia presentation, The Exploding
Plastic Inevitable. Malanga has
authored 12 photography books, 2 biographies and 23 books of poetry, the most
recent being 2018’s The Beats Portfolio. For Saturday’s Poem, here is Malanga’s,
Days
of Rome
Days of nothingness
Days of clear skies the temperature descending
Days of no telephone calls or all the wrong ones
Days of complete boredom and nothing
is happening
Days of 1967 coming to a close in the frigid condition of chest
cold and cough
drops
Days of afternoons in the life of a young girl
not being on time
Days of daydreams exploding
Days of utter frustration
Days of my film being cursed and myself
with the curse never lifting
Days of closed windows to keep the cold
out the livingroom warm
Days of avoiding lunch for a phone-call
with change of plans for the day
Days of posting letters
Days of no mail today
Days of fatigue and amphetamine highs
Days of Charles Edward Ives
Days of the 4:00 pm doldrums
Days of wonder drugs to challenge the common cold
Days of utter frustration
Days of forgetting
Days of clear skies the temperature descending
Days of no telephone calls or all the wrong ones
Days of complete boredom and nothing
is happening
Days of 1967 coming to a close in the frigid condition of chest
cold and cough
drops
Days of afternoons in the life of a young girl
not being on time
Days of daydreams exploding
Days of utter frustration
Days of my film being cursed and myself
with the curse never lifting
Days of closed windows to keep the cold
out the livingroom warm
Days of avoiding lunch for a phone-call
with change of plans for the day
Days of posting letters
Days of no mail today
Days of fatigue and amphetamine highs
Days of Charles Edward Ives
Days of the 4:00 pm doldrums
Days of wonder drugs to challenge the common cold
Days of utter frustration
Days of forgetting
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