Sometime in late April, I invited John Palmer, a close friend, to the Factory to take some fotos of Andy, Edie, Chuck Wein & I, to commemorate the very day we were leaving for JFK, to catch a PanAm overnite flight to Paris for the opening of Andy's Flower paintings at Ileana Sonnabend's gallery. Yet little of John's photos from that day have survived. I own the one depicting Edie in a moment of reverie. Credit: Edie at the Factory, 1965. Photo by John Palmer/Gerard Malanga Collection.
#ediesedgwick #gerardmalanga #silverfactory #chuckwein #johnpalmer
Edie Sedgwick, superstar, 1943-1971
Edie darling, It's been a while, I know. Half a century now, at least.
I made a twilight visit to the Sedgwick Pie
but couldn't pinpoint the tombstone that was yours
in those convoluted circles, those mini-hedges.
The womenfolk shunted to the edges,
and yet your memory lingers,
lingering amongst the forlorn,
amongst the many many fans
with dreams born,
born just not yet,
already outliving us.
I believed you when you said,
autumn was your favorite time of year.
You could've told me anywhere
while looking out the window with the twilight coming on-- The Annex eclipsing our silences
while checking out the time:
where to go to get a bite to eat?
Your favorite, L'Ventura
at 60th & 2nd Ave.
They still maintain your tab. Your money's good.
I don't even wanna venture guessing what's there now.
New York has ways deleting its own history
until too late to wind back the clock,
even when the page is blank,
even when your words are few. "My treat," you said.
Your voice still
with that husky drawl
impossible to mimic.
All for everything & nothing
when it comes right down to it.
Life's tossed to the winds. We take our chances & we gamble some.
The lives we lived… and living still.
Where are you now?
Right down the street at Serendipity's?
De Noyer, this mysterious boutique mystique?
Where O where is that magic carpet flying to the sky taking us?
The you & you & you, The all of you.