Sing Me Home

7/27/2019 Sing Me Home

1/20

John Farmer

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SING

ME

HOME

poems by

JOHN FARMER


2/20

John Farmer

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SING ME HOMEfor Jonah Mixon-Webster

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Life is clear and wonderful

When youre in loveisnt it?

I am in loveright now. I am in love with

(fill in her name).

Well, you knowher name. I dont need

to say it here

she danceslike sun hittingthe Huron riverlike where itfalls right now

here where I amwhere I am like rocks

waiting for a little splash.

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If you know what I mean(winks).You know what I mean

(sighs).

3

Talk to me about itlater. Im afraid Ill break downnow. I am not in love

with Kwame Kilpatrick.

Never thought of him like that.Never did care too much, thats true shit,

tho the local newsseems to care quite a bitabout Kwame Kilpatrick.


3/20

John Farmer

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Theres far more things to think aboutthan him when living in Detroit.

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Theres less to think about in Milford

here by the waterfall. The soundis constant, droning, & I cant hear

a single soul, brakingcars, & I dont feel the need to have

to break down now.

Ill save that for laterwhen Im far from this water-

fall, thinking about the sunhitting the Huron & how

those rocks want to besplashed so badly.

5

Its all about perception, right?& how those perceptions make us feel

& we feel a needto make poetryfrom those perceptions.

Thats true shit,isnt it?

Oh! back to the grind,

6

See you soon.

7

Have you ever heard the sound ofskull against stone

is a lovely phrase

I mean its notsomething I would want

to experience

again.


4/20

John Farmer

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I mean words arent thingsto live. We change them.

I can erase them

unlike memories of the sound ofMYskull hitting stone

while the sun was outair light bereft of breath

to mouth a name ( ). insert her name theremouth Hello

or mouth anything& Im not proud

of blood in green grass & Im still lyingthere. Where are you?

where I am not

8

Its 8:55 p.m. EST 10/11/2013 in the Universe WhiteLake. Strangely enough, I am

in love right now. I am afraid I am

unable to love a personchanging like I love

watching leaves changing

green yellow reddead on green grass

9

I have a friend who lives in winter right now.

10

Remember, loveis tattooed on my chest

(winks)

so you cant take it awaywithout breaking my skin

unless with a rock.


5/20

John Farmer

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OK. Maybe you can take it.But you have it

on lease with an option

to buy. OK?

What am I saying?Only this. Whatever time it is

now is the timeto love you

& you know who YOUis, baby, dont you?Only you do.

(Sighs).

12

Looks like its going to be a long winter.Hello, mouth.

I wonder whats happeningwith my friend livingin winter? Hello? Season you soon?

13

You perceive, as you always do,that there are two conversationsgoing on here

the internal & external dialoguethe one with you

& the one with ( ).

Well, you know I dont need to say it now.

14

Ive said it a million times. Were you listening? No?You mustve been by the waterfall.

Just in case you wanted to snow,I left a trail of rocks behind me.Im going towards winter.


6/20

John Farmer

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Maybe Ill sleetyou there if

yr there

if you know

what I mean

HAHA15

which way is the wind blowingyr laughter today? Gray clouds spill

& fill this room

as I pretendyou are the architectureof clouds

binding this poem

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& it is importantto seem wholeisnt it?

I think I am thinkingyes, it is importantso we can allow ourselves

to give ourWHOLEselvesto that wonderful ever elusive

OTHERmost of the time

but not all of the time.

We still need to savea slice for ourselves, right?

lest we become vague againor worseif we become crumbsno one will want to fork

HAHA


7/20

John Farmer

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Promise to break every-body off before I breakdown. Everyone just wait

now. So much on my plate

now. Talk to me about itlater. Im afraid Ill break

down now, & now

we feel like nothingis the same. So what

are we

what are wewhat are weso afraid of?

18

Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.

We go togetherbetter than a determiner& a noun

& I wantto verb you& you to verb me, preposition

19

You talk with eachpart of yr body

& I want tobe friends with it

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I woke upmade coffeesmoked too muchlooked for phrases

& lines to stealfrom the metro

times. I cant tell if today I willRAIN OR SHINE.


8/20

John Farmer

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I mean if it will rain or shine.Im no meteorologist.

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here I have blue

eyesto mount& repair

but the pains mine

& its a good dayto allow myself to

feel. I mayrain or shine.

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What am I saying?Only this. Imno meteorologist.

I wanted to say the only storyI have is the sun.It has a language.

Not one I know.It has a story.

I am in it. So are you.

23

Whats the weather likewhere you are, where I am

not?

24

I am thinkingI just want

to loveas heavy as

the bass in Drakes

recordwho was there torecord all the blue

I lost? How long wasit?


9/20

John Farmer

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48 miles. Good grief.

(Did I start the car?)

25

Yr syntaxturns me on

as waterquick

go now& get me a vast Band-aid

I am spilling all overthe floor! Can you see it?

26

Hello,the word of the day

is annulateaccording to dictionary dot com

& you know I am terriblewith remembering which words mean what.

Its an adjective

for having ringsor ringlike bands

& Im not satisfiedbut if I use it as a verb like

OUCH! Please,wont you take off

yr rings& annulate me!

sounds better to my sensesif you know what I mean


10/20

John Farmer

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Somewhere in air thereis vulnerability which

opens & closes.

Nonetheless, come in.I left the door cracked& the lights on. Hello.

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I am thinkingwhen there is love,

theres enough

there is painin prohibition

nearest the heartcomes out first

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& this isnt what I wanted to sayabout perception

I mean it is out ofthose prohibitionsI make poetry

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The sun is outwhen there is lovewhen there is enough

light, air to mouthanythinglook to the lilac leaf.

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I mean keep a warm spot for itbut not too warm.

Wait till the moon is full.

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When the moonis full

yr hair is so luxurious


11/20

John Farmer

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What are we not seeingthats right in front of our eyes?

The sun is out.

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Consequently, I never truly believedwriting had the POWER

for me to ENCOUNTERwhat I actually feel

35

Who cares to sayDISCOVERanymore?You know, sometimes words arent right

& so we nameour mouths a mirror

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& sometimes words arent the right thingstho they being nearest the heart

come out first

where pages are whisperswonders are found

37

See that light? See the sunplaying its game

thru the trees?

Hues of greenyellow red blue

sky & Im open

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Baby, I want to be availablewherever you are & wheneveryou feel inspired to enjoy me.

In the street. In line at the movies.

On yr sofa. & now,a selection of myself is available

thru windows & on yr desktop.


12/20

John Farmer

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Lavender light lights my writing space &

I am open (read naked) here

(yr breath is the only thing Im wearing)

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This is to be a momentwhere each of us is activebecoming an embodied volumeabove bodies as we are

in October primarily for sharing.

Where is the wind blowingyr laughter today? (I amthinking I mean entangling.)

I wish Id written enjambingme, right here. Itsdark & loud by the water-

fall & Iam looking for a lightor something to cling to.

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Do you see the light? Butnow I can hardly write

yr the bestnoun Ive verbed

& my mouth has become a mirror


13/20

John Farmer

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Were you listening? No?You mustve been

by the waterfall. Fine.Ill say it.

I still keep a warmspot for youbut not too

warm. & yr easy tolove, rain or shine

What am I saying?Only this, only fools

rush in

Oh, but I cant helpfalling in pools on the floor

go now,get me a vast Band-aid!

(waterproof, please)

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Yr syntaxturns me on

& yr bodydances in six

different languages& I only have 8 inches

to translate it acrossthis paper

before I spill all over

the floor.


14/20

John Farmer

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You know what?Forget the Band-aid.

This isnt about Band-aids.

I take back each thing I saidI wanted. What do I want? you ask.

Only this. Close yr eyes.

Please, humor me,just listen

sometimeswords arent the right thingstattooed on my chest

(Better the fighting than the loneliness, right?)

& Im not lonelybut Im tired of fightingyou

When I dream of a morning, I dreamto wake up, make coffee, smoke my Marlboros,

& sit right there,

(you know where)by the window & red lightwriting this poem to you

I dream baconsizzling, eggs scrambling

& yr laughter filling this room& this poem I am writing to you.

Keep that chair warmbut not too warm.


15/20

John Farmer

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10 THINGS I DO EVERY DAYafter Ted Berrigan

wake upmake coffeesmoke Marlboros

think of youwrite a poem

open yogurtopen a bookopen myselftry tolook in mirror

remember loveis tattooedon my chest

(not a metaphor)try to remember

you & Iam about to

wake upagain shitflush it


16/20

John Farmer

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Post-SingingA Letter (Reflecting on) to You (a process), Home.

Its 2:58 a.m. EST in White Lake, Michigan.

When I sat down to write this poem (usually outside) I tried to be attentive to everything that

was going on inside & outside of me. What kinds of feelings were stirring? Was the weatheraffecting that? Or was it something else? What does the sky look like right now?Id lookaround, making mental notes of everything I was seeing (wind & light thru trees, colors ofleaves, & so on, for example). Id close my eyes, listing every sound I could & could not hear.

This would go on for a few moments. Then, while being in an almost meditative state (I mean,clear & open & sober), Id think of whoever it is I wanted to communicate something to at thatparticular moment. Got it? Id think to myself. Good.Id start writing & I would not stop until Ifelt I had emptied myself of everything I needed to say.

If I had any particular idea I wanted to communicate to that person, it was only this: Idimagine that person & I were sitting there, under the trees by the waterfall. I would tell her to

close her eyes, & then I would begin to describe (perhaps whisper) the landscape. You know, theexterior as well as the interior. For instance, the colors again. Was there anything missing?Perhaps a shade of gray?

The only idea I had was to write as simply & honestly as I could possibly write (& here of coursehonesty has to do with perception). & so with that in mind these poems are intensely honest &personal.

Those are two things I feel like contemporary poetryis missing: Honesty & a Person. I,personally, like the feel of a person behind the poem, & that person being honest (remember,that depends on how you & I perceive it) or at least appearing to be so. O Hara, Berrigan,Padgett, & Brainard all did this intensely well. Or, seemed to pull it off intensely well. Again, I

dont care. I love it. Nowadays with all the conceptual writing hoo-ha bullshit, nothing reallyfeels honest to me or that there is any trace of a person (A FEELING, BREATHING,PERCEPTIVE BEING) composing a line.1

Anyways, on honesty & personal writing, or the appearance of it being personal, in SING MEHOME:

Some of the lines in here were taken from love letters I wrote but never sent.Some of the lines arent mine.2Most of the lines were merely taken nearly unchanged from my notebook.

& so in this poem, I take you thru mylife from August 26, 2013 to October 15, 2013.3

1 You know, a writer who actually writes their own fucking line. I.e. Kenneth Goldsmith. Fuck that shit. &its just retypesetting, & stealing Warhols old ideas only that Warhol didnt have the convenience of aglobe at his fingertips.2I stole phrases from theMetro Times, two lines from G. Matthew Mapes, a few Irish proverbs in a bookmy grandfather, John Farmer, left to me after he passed away, a few lines from Anne CarsonsPLAINWATER, part of a song by Drake in his album NOTHING WAS THE SAME, a couple lines fromTed Berrigans Tambourine Life in MANY HAPPY RETURNS, which I bought the day before writing thefirst line of this poem on 10/10/2013 at John K. King Books in Detroit, Michigan.3 October 15, 2013 is when I wrote the last line. This poem was written over four days. 10/11-10/15/2013.


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John Farmer

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This poem switches constantly between past & present. Let me show you.

In 1-7: I am addressing Jonah, who this poem is dedicated to. I wrote these parts on my lunchbreak (10/11/2013)by the Huron River in Milford, Michigan right where it falls. Its really alovely place to think & write. Trust me. If you sit close enough to the waterfall, you cant hear athing besides water falling outside of whats inside of yr head. Maybe one day Ill sit there with

you. Itll be lovely.

3: I am talking about October 10, 2013. I went to Detroit for my bankruptcy hearing &coincidentally Kwame Kilpatrick was being sentenced that day, too, right down the street. All ofthe local news teams were there: FOX, WDIV, ABC, & various newspaper journalists with theirpens handy or recording devices out. & when I lived in Detroit, I never did care too much abouthim. I didnt really like him all that much. Had a bad feeling in my gut. I am usually pretty goodat reading people. I go with my gut.

4-6: Jumps back to the present moment of writing (now past) where I was still by the waterfall,thinking about rocks & the sun & the conversation Jonah & I had a couple nights before writingthis. We were talking about perception (well, he started it, hes always thinking about

perception) & how perceptions between two people rarely ever sync up.

7: This part takes you to August 26, 2013 Highland, Michigan. Roughly 12:55 p.m. EST. This wasan important date for me. & is also why this I is not the same I in any of my previous poemsthat you may have read in the past.

On 12:55 p.m. EST in the Universe, Highland, Michigan, I thought I was going to be killed.

Have you ever heard the sound of / [] / is a lovely phrase are taken from Berrigans MANYHAPPY RETURNS. I felt like stealing those two lines made it easier for me to write about suchan event in any true manner. Let me do something.

Do something with me now. Please, humor me.

Imagine the person you love the most. Ill wait.

Got it? Good. Now close yr eyes.

Imagine someone repeatedly beating yr skull against various stones on a front yard.Imagine that person choking you, while the sun is (& was) out on a perfectly beautiful day in

Michigan. Imagine tank-top weather.Imagine green grass.Imagine blue sky.ImagineWait. Is that my blood or his blood?Imagine arms going numb. You think hes loosening his grip around yr neck.

Imagine he isnt.Imagine no wind. Sun out. Blue sky.Imagine you black out.

Now, remember that person I told you to imagine? The person you love the most? Good. No, youcant open yr eyes yet.


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John Farmer

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Imagine, as you black out, never hearing her voice again or telling her that you love her. Sofucking much.4

So, you see, if you have that person, the one you love the most, dont let a fucking minute go byin yr waking life when you dont let her (or him) know that you love them. (& yes, I know thatsounds like some cheesy shit perhapsyr grandfather or an aunt said to you before. It doesnt

make it any less true. At least for me.)

You could be killed at any minute of any day. Blue sky or gray. While the suns out or while itsraining. Maybe you understand now?

And that is, unfortunately, true shit.

Already, Ive said too much.

Its 4:12 a.m. EST in the Universe. White Lake, Michigan. October 21, 2013. Already, Ive dranktoo much coffee, took my pill, shit twice, & am running low on cigarettes. It may be a differenttime now depending on where you are. I dont know.

8-14: These were written in Milford & White Lake, Michigan. Part 9 I have a friend who lives inwinter right now was me eavesdropping on a conversation between two people inside ofStarbucks in downtown Milford. To me, that sentence is so lovely & so, so, sad at the same time.

What do you think? Again, this has to do with perception.

10: Yes, love is actually tattooed on my chest.

11: I believe I stole a bit of this language from Eddie Murphys RAW performance. I find itentirely & absolutely hilarious. What do you think? Tell me about it sometime. Does love have acurrency? Id say, when the sentiment is right. But, remember, I just went bankrupt. (Not ametaphor.) True shit.

Whatever time it is / now is the time /to love you is incredibly silly/corny & its all mine,baby. (Winks.)

12: Hint. Anything from this point forward that is entirely too silly to be considered poetry isdirectly from my notebook writing, October 11-15, 2013.

15: I wrote this in White Lake, Michigan. Afternoon was just making itself known while I waslooking out the window, on the brown leather couch, thinking that I wanted to tell yousomething. I wrote those lines to you instead.

16: Back to addressing Jonah. & also referencing how often that elusive OTHER is brought upwhile being a creative writing major at Eastern Michigan University.

17: Here I am stealing lines from Drakes album NOTHING WAS THE SAME. A few weeksbefore writing this part, Jonah, David Boeving, & I were listening to the album while driving onUS-23 to shop at TJ MAXX.

4 I mean, that person could be a him or anything of course. But I am the one writing this & you are the onereading this of course.


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John Farmer

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18: This is a referring to a post on tumblr by that person who I just happen to love the most. Itread: Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.

I wrote the response to that while feeling just the right amount of silliness while throwing insome things from courses in linguistics I had taken at EMU. Try it out. Language & poetrydoesnt always have to be so serious! RELAX! Have fun! See:

Start a sentence with You & I. See how wonderfully that goes together? You, the determiner, &I, the noun. But, dont get it twisted, baby, you dont determine me. Nor I you. Tho, you know, I

want to verb you & you to verb me. & you know what verb means, dont you? Only you do.5

19: Successful appropriation of a line from ANCHORMAN? (I think so.) While also referring tothe one who talks with her whole body. Wonderful.

& So on & so forth thru the rest of the poem.

In my conversation with Jonah I mentioned earlier in this letter to you, he asked me somethingfunny. It was something like: Whens the last time you wrote anything that came from yr

head?6

I thought about it for a moment. Six months? A year? I replied. & after Jonah & I wentour separate ways that night, & after I drove back home to White Lake, Michigan listening toDrakes album NOTHING WAS THE SAME for 48 miles, uncontrollably sobbing the whole ridehome because of something I wont mention here (already, Ive said too much)that part of ournight stuck with me. I took it as a challenge.

Also, if you know me at all, you may actually know nothing about me. I had this terrible habit,before I thought I was going to be strangled to death, of never letting anyone closer than I wascomfortable with.

I recall, whenever the Temporal Arts Collective started, Miranda Metelski7 said to me that I wasterribly closed off.

I also remember that one I love the most saying on a couple occasions to me: John Farmer, Ilove you & I know nothing about you.8 I mean, I wrote some nice poems in the past, sure, butId throw them all away (& probably be a lot happier & healthier too) if I would have had the

balls to open myself up to feeling whatever it is there was to feel at whatever moment.

So, now that youve read this poem & this process/reflection essay/letter, you know a little moreabout me than most people. & yes, nearly every time I write the I it is this IJohn FrankFarmerspeaking to you. Well, you perhaps know the people I am speaking to in this poem. Do

you? If you dont, you should. Theyre great.

5 It means love. Or fuck. Or both. Depending on if the sentiment is right. Of course, you know that, I dontneed to spell it out for you.6If you are familiar with my writing, you know that my process & writing was highly appropriative. Id say80-85% of it was stolen. In this work, 81% of it is straight from my head while combining some of my old

writing practices. So, I wasnt lying when I said it is intensely honest & personal.7 Miranda Metelski. Friend. Former member of the Temporal Arts Collective. Fellow writer. Wonderfulartist. Wonderful being. You should meet her.8Advice: Dont let someone say that to you. Being open isnt so bad.


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John Farmer

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& I dont care about how much theory you may have read that says the I is never the writersactual I. In this case, it is the writer writing this & I am saying it is my I.

When reading or writing poetry all I tend to think or care about is: Is this making mefeelsomething? Realize something? Is it good to my senses at this moment? If yes to all of theabove questions, then I believe its alright.

Its a good thing to get that cloudy theory out of yr head & to just experience what is happeningon the page & what it is doing in yr head as yr reading it.

I mean, this may all mean nothing. Im just being me. If I cant be myself, who am I going to be?

See you soon.

10/21/2013 2:58 a.m.4:49 a.m. EST UniverseWhite Lake, Michigan

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Sing Me Home