John Farmer

SING ME HOME
poems by JOHN FARMER

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John Farmer SING ME HOME for Jonah Mixon-Webster 1 Life is clear and wonderful When youre in love

isnt it? I am in love right now. I am in love with

(fill in her name).

Well, you know her name. I dont need to say it

here she dances like sun hitting the Huron river like where it falls right now here where I am where I am like rocks waiting for a little splash. 2 If you know what I mean (winks). You know what I mean (sighs). 3

Talk to me about it later. Im afraid Ill break down now. 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 news seems to care quite a bit about Kwame Kilpatrick. Page

John Farmer Theres far more things to think about than him when living in Detroit. 4 Theres less to think about in Milford here by the waterfall. The sound is constant, droning, & I cant hear a single soul, braking cars, & I dont feel the need to have to break down now. Ill save that for later when Im far from this waterfall, thinking about the sun hitting the Huron & how those rocks want to be splashed so badly. 5 Its all about perception, right? & how those perceptions make us feel & we feel a need to make poetry from those perceptions. Thats true shit, isnt it? Oh! back to the grind, 6 See you soon. 7 Have you ever heard the sound of skull against stone is a lovely phrase I mean its not something I would want to experience

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John Farmer I mean words arent things to live. We change them. I can erase them unlike memories of the sound of MY skull hitting stone air light while the sun was out bereft of breath ( mouth or mouth anything & Im not proud there. where I am not 8 Its 8:55 p.m. EST 10/11/2013 in the Universe Lake. Strangely enough, I am in love right now. I am afraid I am unable to love a person changing like I love watching leaves changing green yellow red dead on green grass 9 I have a friend who lives in winter right now. 10 is tattooed on my chest Remember, love (winks) White of blood in green grass & Im still lying Where are you? Hello ). insert her name there

to mouth a name

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so you cant take it away without breaking my skin unless with a rock.

John Farmer 11 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 time to love you & you know who YOU is, baby, dont you? Only you do. (Sighs). 12 Looks like its going to be a long winter. Hello, mouth. I wonder whats happening with my friend living in winter? Hello? Season you soon? 13 You perceive, as you always do, that there are two conversations going on here the internal & external dialogue the 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.

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John Farmer Maybe Ill sleet you there if yr there if you know what I mean

HAHA
15 which way is the wind blowing yr laughter today? Gray clouds spill & fill this room as I pretend you are the architecture of clouds binding this poem 16 & it is important to seem whole isnt it? yes, it is important to give our WHOLE selves I think I am thinking so we can allow ourselves to that wonderful ever elusive OTHER most of the time but not all of the time.

We still need to save a slice for ourselves, right? lest we become vague again or worse if we become crumbs no one will want to fork

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HAHA

John Farmer 17 Promise to break everybody off before I break down. Everyone just wait now. So much on my plate now. Talk to me about it later. Im afraid Ill break down now, is the same. So what are we what are we what are we so afraid of? 18 Prepositions are not words to end sentences with. We go together better than a determiner & a noun & I want to verb you & you to verb me, preposition 19 You talk with each part of yr body & I want to be friends with it 20 I woke up made coffee smoked too much looked for phrases & lines to steal from the metro times. I cant tell if today I will RAIN OR SHINE. we feel like nothing

& now

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John Farmer I mean if it will rain or shine. Im no meteorologist. 21 here to mount & repair but the pains mine & its a good day to allow myself to feel. I may rain or shine. 22 What am I saying? Only this. Im no meteorologist. I wanted to say the only story I 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 like where you are, where I am not? 24 I am thinking I just want I have blue eyes

to love as heavy as

the bass in Drakes

recordwho was there to record all the blue

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I lost? How long was it?

John Farmer

48 miles. Good grief. (Did I start the car?) 25 Yr syntax turns me on as water quick go now & get me a vast Band-aid I am spilling all over the floor! Can you see it? 26 Hello, the word of the day is annulate according to dictionary dot com & you know I am terrible with remembering which words mean what. Its an adjective for having rings or ringlike bands & Im not satisfied but if I use it as a verb like OUCH! Please, wont you take off yr rings & annulate me! sounds better to my senses if you know what I mean

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John Farmer 27 Somewhere in air opens & closes. Nonetheless, come in. I left the door cracked & the lights on. Hello. 28 I am thinking when there is love, theres enough there is pain in prohibition nearest the heart comes out first 29 & this isnt what I wanted to say about perception I mean it is out of those prohibitions I make poetry 30 The sun is out when there is love when there is enough anythinglook to the lilac leaf. there is vulnerability which

light, air to mouth 31 I mean keep a warm spot for it but not too warm.

Wait till the moon is full. 32

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When the moon is full yr hair is so luxurious

John Farmer

33 What are we not seeing thats right in front of our eyes? The sun is out. 34 Consequently, I never truly believed writing had the POWER for me to ENCOUNTER what I actually feel 35 Who cares to say DISCOVER anymore? You know, sometimes words arent right & so we name

our mouths a mirror 36

& sometimes words arent the right things tho they being nearest the heart come out first where pages are whispers wonders are found 37 See that light? thru the trees? Hues of green yellow red blue See the sun playing its game

sky & Im open 38

Baby, I want to be available wherever you are & whenever you feel inspired to enjoy me. In the street. In line at the movies.

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thru windows & on yr desktop.

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

John Farmer

39 Lavender light lights my writing space & I am open (read naked) here

(yr breath is the only thing Im wearing) 40 This is to be a moment where each of us is active becoming an embodied volume above bodies as we are in October primarily for sharing. Where is the wind blowing yr laughter today? (I am thinking I mean entangling.) I wish Id written enjambing me, right here. Its dark & loud by the waterfall & I am looking for a light or something to cling to. 41 Do you see the light? But now I can hardly write yr the best noun Ive verbed & my mouth has become a mirror

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John Farmer 42 Were you listening? No? You mustve been by the waterfall. Fine. I still keep a warm spot for youbut not too warm. Ill say it. & yr easy to

love, rain or shine

rush in

What am I saying? Only this, only fools Oh, but I cant help falling in pools on the floor go now, get me a vast Band-aid!

(waterproof, please) 43 Yr syntax turns me on & yr body dances in six & I only have 8 inches

different languages to translate it across this paper

before I spill all over the floor.

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John Farmer 44 You know what? Forget the Band-aid. This isnt about Band-aids. I take back each thing I said I wanted. What do I want? you ask. Only this. Close yr eyes. just listen sometimes words arent the right things tattooed on my chest (Better the fighting than the loneliness, right?) & Im not lonely but Im tired of fighting you When I dream of a morning, I dream to wake up, make coffee, smoke my Marlboros, & sit right there, (you know where) by the window & red light writing this poem to you I dream bacon sizzling, eggs scrambling & yr laughter filling this room & this poem I am writing to you. Keep that chair warm but not too warm. Please, humor me,

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John Farmer 10 THINGS I DO EVERY DAY after Ted Berrigan wake up make coffee smoke Marlboros think of you write a poem open yogurt open a book open myself try to look in mirror remember love is tattooed on my chest (not a metaphor) try to remember you & I am about to wake up again shit flush it

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John Farmer Post-Singing A 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 weather affecting that? Or was it something else? What does the sky look like right now? Id look around, making mental notes of everything I was seeing (wind & light thru trees, colors of leaves, & 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 that particular moment. Got it? Id think to myself. Good. Id start writing & I would not stop until I felt 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: Id imagine 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, the exterior 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 course honesty has to do with perception). & so with that in mind these poems are intensely honest & personal. Those are two things I feel like contemporary poetry is 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 really feels 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 ME HOME: Some of the lines in here were taken from love letters I wrote but never sent. Some of the lines arent mine.2 Most of the lines were merely taken nearly unchanged from my notebook. & so in this poem, I take you thru my life from August 26, 2013 to October 15, 2013.3
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 a globe at his fingertips. 2 I stole phrases from the Metro Times, two lines from G. Matthew Mapes, a few Irish proverbs in a book my grandfather, John Farmer, left to me after he passed away, a few lines from Anne Carsons PLAINWATER, part of a song by Drake in his album NOTHING WAS THE SAME, a couple lines from Ted Berrigans Tambourine Life in MANY HAPPY RETURNS, which I bought the day before writing the first 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 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 lunch break (10/11/2013) by the Huron River in Milford, Michigan right where it falls. Its really a lovely place to think & write. Trust me. If you sit close enough to the waterfall, you cant hear a thing 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 of the local news teams were there: FOX, WDIV, ABC, & various newspaper journalists with their pens handy or recording devices out. & when I lived in Detroit, I never did care too much about him. I didnt really like him all that much. Had a bad feeling in my gut. I am usually pretty good at 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 writing this. 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 was an important date for me. & is also why this I is not the same I in any of my previous poems that 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 MANY HAPPY RETURNS. I felt like stealing those two lines made it easier for me to write about such an 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.

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

John Farmer Imagine, as you black out, never hearing her voice again or telling her that you love her. So fucking much.4 So, you see, if you have that person, the one you love the most, dont let a fucking minute go by in yr waking life when you dont let her (or him) know that you love them. (& yes, I know that sounds like some cheesy shit perhaps yr 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 its raining. 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 drank too much coffee, took my pill, shit twice, & am running low on cigarettes. It may be a different time 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 in winter right now was me eavesdropping on a conversation between two people inside of Starbucks 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 it entirely & absolutely hilarious. What do you think? Tell me about it sometime. Does love have a currency? Id say, when the sentiment is right. But, remember, I just went bankrupt. (Not a metaphor.) 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 is directly from my notebook writing, October 11-15, 2013. 15: I wrote this in White Lake, Michigan. Afternoon was just making itself known while I was looking out the window, on the brown leather couch, thinking that I wanted to tell you something. I wrote those lines to you instead. 16: Back to addressing Jonah. & also referencing how often that elusive OTHER is brought up while being a creative writing major at Eastern Michigan University. 17: Here I am stealing lines from Drakes album NOTHING WAS THE SAME. A few weeks before writing this part, Jonah, David Boeving, & I were listening to the album while driving on US-23 to shop at TJ MAXX.

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I mean, that person could be a him or anything of course. But I am the one writing this & you are the one reading this of course.
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John Farmer 18: This is a referring to a post on tumblr by that person who I just happen to love the most. It read: Prepositions are not words to end sentences with. I wrote the response to that while feeling just the right amount of silliness while throwing in some things from courses in linguistics I had taken at EMU. Try it out. Language & poetry doesnt 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 to the 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 something funny. 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 went our separate ways that night, & after I drove back home to White Lake, Michigan listening to Drakes album NOTHING WAS THE SAME for 48 miles, uncontrollably sobbing the whole ride home because of something I wont mention here (already, Ive said too much)that part of our night 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 was comfortable with. I recall, whenever the Temporal Arts Collective started, Miranda Metelski7 said to me that I was terribly closed off. I also remember that one I love the most saying on a couple occasions to me: John Farmer, I love you & I know nothing about you.8 I mean, I wrote some nice poems in the past, sure, but Id 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 more about me than most people. & yes, nearly every time I write the I it is this IJohn Frank Farmerspeaking to you. Well, you perhaps know the people I am speaking to in this poem. Do you? If you dont, you should. Theyre great.

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It means love. Or fuck. Or both. Depending on if the sentiment is right. Of course, you know that, I dont need to spell it out for you. 6 If you are familiar with my writing, you know that my process & writing was highly appropriative. Id say 80-85% 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. Wonderful artist. Wonderful being. You should meet her. 8 Advice: Dont let someone say that to you. Being open isnt so bad.
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John Farmer & I dont care about how much theory you may have read that says the I is never the writers actual 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 me feel something? Realize something? Is it good to my senses at this moment? If yes to all of the above questions, then I believe its alright. Its a good thing to get that cloudy theory out of yr head & to just experience what is happening on 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 Universe White Lake, Michigan

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