Things I Will Miss about David Franks (Terence Winch)

David Franks­---loveable, eccentric, inventive---died on January 14, 2010, after a long struggle with cancer.  The Baltimore Sun obituary gave his age as 61, which seemed suspiciously young to those of us who knew him for a long time.  And, in fact, Betsy Boyd, one of his ex-girlfriends, tells me he would actually have turned 67 on January 30th of this year.  There was a memorial service at the Creative Alliance in Baltimore on Sunday, January 31, at which I was asked to read.  The piece I read is below.  [above: David Franks; below: the old Patterson Theater in Baltimore, home of the Creative Alliance]

David was more  multimedia artist than traditional poet.  Most of what I have by him is on CDs rather than in books.  He composed a variety of music, using Cagean and other strategies.  But his poems are also wonderful---check out "Alice Gaines Played the Harp"  or his very funny  piece "Pay Attention!," which he read with the aid of a bullhorn (and which goes beyond humor to map out his personal aesthetic).

Robert Creeley praised David's work, his old friend Andrei Codrescu said that David "...is one of the very few of my contemporaries whose work excites me consistently," and Jackson Mac Low admitted that his "...interest in letter-to-sound techniques was rearoused by David Franks―the brilliant experimental poet, composer, and conceptual artist...."   

But it was really in Baltimore―among his many friends, collaborators, and ex-lovers―that David was best known and appreciated.  His friend Joe Wall is rebuilding David's website, Baltimore writer David Beaudouin has established a temporary social network site, and his other friends will, I'm sure, keep his legend alive. (Whether David was also the secret "Poe Toaster," who left flowers and cognac at Poe's grave every year, remains a matter of speculation; see here, too. ) For more about David, see Michael Lally's recent post; for photos of David, look here. 

[DC poet Doug Lang and Smartish Pace magazine's Stephen Reichert outside the Patterson]

Things I Will Miss about David Franks

No more valentine's day card from him.

I would almost always forget and open

the card too hastily and all that glitter

and all those tiny red hearts would spill out

all over the floor, and it would piss me off.

And that is what David probably intended.

 

David could sense my presence

in Baltimore.  It amazed me.  He would always

show up, as though he controlled some satellite

system in the sky that kept track of everything

happening in his beloved city.  And it was always

good to see him.  His sincere, gentle, but ever

subversive self transforming the event.

David loved attention, but wasn't cheap

about bestowing it on his friends.

 

His humor, courage, optimism in the face

of illness. His refusal to not be himself

at all times, in all circumstances.

 

His work: that overflowing energy and creativity.

Bells ringing!  Underwater symphonies!  Xeroxes

of his genitals!  The music of tears, bubbles,

raindrops.   Whatever it took, he took it.

 

Or stole it.  I remember in 1975 or so, David and I

and 5 or 6 other poets did a radio show in DC

in which we were each asked to read a poem.

When David's turn came, he read a poem of mine

called "Excuses," verbatim.  I was shocked.

He came up to me after the program, and in his

earnest fashion asked, "how did you like my poem?"

I said, "what the fuck do you mean, your poem?"

He seemed to consider the worthiness of my objection

and declared he would from then on say that the poem

was in homage to me.  "Excuses" was apparently one

of the first of David's "involuntary collaborations." 

I could never get angry with him.  David Franks was presumed

innocent in all situations as far as I was concerned.

And if he was going to steal your poem

he'd do it right in front of you & on the air.

 

I will miss his performances.

I have vague memories of seeing David read for

the first time in DC in the early '70s. Might have

been the Pyramid Gallery in Dupont Circle.

He was already an inventor, experimenter,

performer.  Collaborating with the xerox machine.

David didn't hold anything back, and if you were

shocked, outraged,  offended, or made nervous

by his work,

so much the better. 

 

In not knowing what he was doing,

he knew exactly what he was doing.

 

The phone calls out of the blue that would

go on for hours.  I can't even remember

what we talked about.  And after a while

I'd say, David, I've got to pee, I've got to eat,

or go to bed or go to work, or whatever it

was the rest of us have to do that David

had a permanent exemption from.

 

Ted Berrigan said "Let none regret my end

who called me friend." And Frank O'Hara once remarked,

"After the initial shock, death makes me angrier

rather than sadder."  David loved Berrigan & O'Hara,

so I will go along with a lack of regret and some anger

today.  But I also have to object to the attitude common

these days that we should just celebrate someone's life,

be happy we knew them, etc.

Yeah, okay, I guess we can do that.

Celebrate.  David would probably approve. 

But we should also grieve.

He's gone, he's not coming back,

though we will

remember him when we hear

a tugboat's musical belch

or a church bell

ringing anywhere

anytime in Baltimore.

 

Comments

[Chris Mason]

Terence, in a memorial that was appropriately full of funny stories, one of the funniest moments was you saying you were pissed off because now David couldn't read at your memorial.
David Franks left em laughing.

Chris Mason

[David Beaudouin]

Terry: You really snagged David's spirit here--and in your terrific poem. Your story about his appropriation of your poem "Excuses" still cracks me up. Thanks for being there to give the man a proper send-off.

[Laura Orem]

Lovely tribute to a friend, T.

But - what do you think? Was he the Poe-Toaster?

[Doug Lang]

Terence,
That's a fantastic picture of David, it really shows his spirit, and the almost child-like source of his charm. Your post is terrific, too, in every respect -- a truly fitting tribute, excellent links, and, of course, your poem, which was really the heart of Sunday's reading for me. I am just so sorry that I will never see David again.

[Terence Winch]

Dear L:  I doubt if David was the Poe Toaster. It would seem out of character for him to do something so secretive---David loved publicity and attention.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks back to you, David, for organizing the reading.  He would have loved it.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Doug. I'm still amazed that "Susan" showed up, as though summoned by the poem you wrote in DF's memory. 

[Grace Cavalieri]

Terry, I am incredibly sad.I knew David in the 70's. It feels as if the era waited till now to be really gone. Gone is a fact now. That poem is wonderful. Nice to see Chris Mason's name above too. Proves even now David leaves people connected.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Grace.  I think David will enjoy a robust aesthetic afterlife.

[DL]

Beautiful post, Terry. The concept of "involuntary collaborations" -- was that David's phrase for it? -- brings me back to the 1970s, like Proust's dunkin' donut.

[Terence Winch]

DL:  It was his phrase (unless, of course, he "borrowed" it from someone).

[AP]

You have to mourn the loss of anyone who insisted that only the xerox machine at the Woodlawn Social Security office was of high enough quality for xeroxing his genitals.

Can you post a link to your poem "Excuses," Terence? I'd like to see the work Franks appropriated.

[Terence Winch]

AP:  "Excuses" appeared in a long out-of-print 1975 chapbook & doesn't seem to be on line. But I'll email you a Word doc of the poem. (I've been using it during recent high school class visits---getting the kids to write collectively their own version of the poem, an exercise that usually works really well.)   

[SC]

T- You really nailed it. David was brilliant AND charming.

[Betsy]

Terry, thank you for creating this page and for the funny/beautiful poem and presentation last Sunday. You honored David so well, lovingly, honestly. He would have clapped with glee from his seat. And nodded. (Face pink. Smiling his realest smile.) And maybe, too, he'd have shook his head in (phony) protest. Every participant contributed so much to the spirited carnival of a send-off. I felt him in the theater, not in the dumb way people say "he'll always be with us," but because we conjured him for a short while via his unique and powerful work. I miss David very much and always will. His playfulness: He liked to spin fast circles in the Rothko room at the Phillips, to make the colors blur, so that he got severely dizzy and had to be guided by a friend. I'll miss his huge enthusiasm...for books, food, women, animals, water, personal secrets, for his fellow artists, random people strolling the street, people serving his lunch and dinner, people he'd soon call friends, if only for a few minutes. Thanks for helping me feel his shining David-Franks presence last week. I'm very grateful I got a chance to know and love D.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Betsy, for your great comment.  And for your part in organizing the event.