Performance Poetry Read (12/27)

Patricia Smith and Performance Poetry (12/27) – UPDATED 1/6

Patricia Smith has been one of the more intriguing poets I’ve read during this “term.” As a Slam performance poet, Smith’s poetry conveys more emotion than any other poet I’ve encountered. I enjoyed listening to a recording of Allen Ginsberg’s “America” earlier on, but unlike Ginsberg, viewing a video performance of Patricia Smith’s “Building Nicole’s Mama” transcended the written work not only of this poem, but also of the entire collection Teahouse of the Almighty.

When I began studying Smith, I decided to read the collection prior to viewing a live performance of “Building Nicole’s Mama,” in order to establish an unbiased comparison of her written work to her performance art. Smith’s written words alone evocatively illustrate the hardships of children living in the inner city:

And 9-year-od Tiko Jefferson,

Barely big enough to life the gun, fired a bullet

Into his own throat after Mama bended his back

With a lead pipe. Tamika cried into a sofa pillow

Of their cluttered one-room apartment,

Donya’s cousin gone in a drive-by. Dark window,

Click, click, gone, says, Donya, her tiny finger

A barrel, the thumb a hammer.

As striking as Smith’s words may be in this excerpt from “Building Nicole’s Mama,” it is not until a reading of this poem is viewed can one truly understand the emotion behind her words. Smith speaks in such a manner that she relays not only the devastation she feels as these stories are told to her, but communicates the misery suffered by the students as a result of this violence. From my point of view, her performance of “Building Nicole’s Mama” is so effective that as I could not help but hear Smith’s voice as I reread Teahouse of the Almighty. Partly for this reason, I would imagine, Smith has won multiple National Slam competitions.

An advantage for performance poets is the ability to clearly communicate the tone of their poetry. In Smith’s case, a shift in tone takes place in her performance of “Building Nicole’s Mama” that is not necessarily intelligible merely from reading the poem. As the poem opens, Smith speaks with an air of sardonicism:

I am astonished at their mouthful names—

Lakinishia, Fumilayo, Chevallani, Delayo—

Their ragged rebellions and lip-glossed pouts,

And all those pants drooped as drapery.

When performed, Smith speaks the names of the students with a sneer. “Lip-glossed pouts” is stated with a contempt that cannot be interpreted merely from seeing the words on a page. By the end of the poem, however, Smith has nothing but sympathy for these children, now aware of their plight:

So poets,

As we pick up our pens,

As we flirt and sin and rejoice behind microphones—

Remember Nicole.

She knows that we are here now,

And she is an empty vessel waiting to be filled.

Admittedly, this shift in tone is visible from reading the poetry. In watching Smith perform the poem, however, one observes the poet move quite dramatically from scorn to almost to the point of tears.

A possible pitfall of performance poetry is the very aspect that makes it effective; in listening to or watching a live performance of a particular poem, the poet is able to establish an exact tone, clarifying meaning when much may have been left open to interpretation. To many poetry students, such as myself, the open-endedness is what makes poetry reading entertaining, and in some cases, palatable. For the poet, of course, this is a clear advantage, as their words are less likely to be misconstrued.