send

Wi-fi binary coded pheromones of skyped striptease.
~online dating

Send by Domenico Capilongo is the writer’s second collection of poetry. Capilongo lives with his family in Toronto, where he teaches alternative education and karate. He has had work published in Descant, The New Quarterly, Dreamcatcher, and Geist. His first book of poetry, I thought elvis was italian, came out in 2008 from Wolsak & Wynn.

Send is an interesting mix of stream of conscious commentary on the new electronic age filled with alliteration and chaos. We live our modern lives surrounded by “veins web and connect a turning century of marketplaces to the smooth epidermis of suburban front lawns.” Capilongo brings insight to the reader from what we see or experience daily from the man talking on his phone in the public restroom to how to get to Sesame Street (GPS, of course). Language is paid tribute from smoke signals, cans connected by a string, proper email closings, curious words, and dead languages. “After rob ford” written in English, translated into Latin, and translated back into English as an experiment in language or simply playing with Google translate which on a good day can help one communicate with a foreign writer in something resembling childlike grammar.

A good but very narrow collection

3.5 stars

These poems are focused on the quickly changing modes of communication, between the generations, between people, how even cursive may soon cease to have a shared meaning. The poems are short and often contain only one complete thought, some play with language and form.

My favorites:

city
"...church of exhalations..."
"this city is a molasses of whispers...."

answer
"when I first wrote this sentence he was an-
swering his telephone and now his cellular
phone his cellphone his flip phone and now
his smart phone his text message his text his
twitter feed face book and now his facetime
his skype his snapchat and now his watch
and now"

curses

send
"...can you hear this over the static of the
moon? this satellite of caresses. move the antennae
of this love affair to pick up a new channel, a missed
call...."

phone call
"...and still your
whispered silence
the way you end sentences
I can see you
still"

touchscreen skin
"our fingers become tongues...."