My Way_ Speeches and Poems - Charles Bernstein

288 CLOSE LISTENING
the more extravagantly theatrical style of reading, I would point to this
more monovalent, minimally inflected, and in any case unaugmented,
mode as touching on the essence of the medium. For poetry cannot, and
need not, compete with music in terms of acoustic complexity or rhythmic
force, or with theater in terms of spectacle. What is unique, and in its
own way exhilarating, about the performance of poetry is that it does what
it does within the limits of language alone.
(Let me note here Peter Quartermain's caution, in Close Listening, that the
poet's voicing of a poem should not be allowed to eliminate ambiguous
voicings in the text; nor should the author's performance of a poem be
absolutely privileged over that of other readers and performers.)
The (unaccompanied) performance of poetry has as its upper limit
music, as realized in what has come to be called sound poetry, and its lower
limit silence, as realized in what has come to be called visual poetry. Visual
poetry gets us to look at works as well as read them, while sound poetry
gets us to hear as well as listen. Curiously, these two limits intersect,
as when a visual poem is performed as a sound poem or a sound poem is
scored as a visual poem. It's important, however, to stay focussed on the
poetry reading in the ordinary sense, since it seems to me that this mode
of reading is most critically neglected-or perhaps just taken for granted,
if not derided. Even those sympathetic to performed poetry will remark
that most poets can't read their work, as if such a sentiment suggests a defect
with the medium of poetry readings. One might say that most of the
poems published in books or magazines are dull without that observation
reflecting on poetry as a medium. Perhaps it makes most sense to say that
if you don't like a poet's reading it is because you don't like the poetry, to
pick up on a recent observation of Aldon Nielsen on an internet discussion
list. There are no poets whose work I admire whose readings have
failed to engage me, to enrich my hearing of the work. That is not to say,
however, that some readings don't trouble or complicate my understanding
or appreciation. For related reasons, I am quite interested in audio
recording of poetry readings. If, as I am suggesting, poetry readings foreground
the audible acoustic text of the poem-what I want to call the audiotext
of the poem, specifically extending Garrett Stewart's term phonotext-then
audio reproduction is ideally suited to the medium. (Video, it
seems to me, is often less engaging for poetry, since the typically depleted
visual resources-static shots of a person at a podium-are no match for
the sound track and tend to flatten out the affective dimension of the live
performance. For me, the most energetic and formally engaging cinematic
extension of the poetry reading is a series of films made from the
mid-1970s to mid-1980s by Henry Hills, especially Plagiarism, Radio Adios,
and Money.)