why i travel alone by joan cappello

In a Joan Cappello poem anything can happen. The audacity of her ideas are what make why i travel alone fresh,  animated in Sal’s Autobody Shop or in the midst of a troupe of Slavic Flamenco dancers, in places where bitcoin meets the periodic table exploding me into particles that no longer attach to anything.  Elvis, Houdini, Jayne Mansfield, Sister Anastasia, Katherine Gibbs, Cousin Frankie, and Aunt Millie are just part of her poetry vernacular. Part standup, Cappello’s deadpan delivery recall that of early Charles Simic poems, with their surrealist twists: last night you slept in my cactus. Some lines could easily be part of a nightclub monologue. Here’s one poem, dream (3), in its entirety: the audience has questions like how can I / speak with authority with your head in my lap? Heartbreak and humor create a casserole of raw emotion in this collection. They will leave you blinking and thinking, curious, and eager for more.

–Elaine Sexton

These are the linguistic translations of the body language of a desperate parakeet in a shop window, a mask stealing raccoon, and someone with a proclivity for finding happiness in a place they have never been, may never visit, will never live. “why i travel alone” is Joan Cappello’s reverie of pain and beauty, independence and the possible prices of one’s freedom. In it, she explores past and future relationships. The past is a place of transport: kitchens, the Saldi’s beagle, a brief affair, a matinee, punishment for having bought too many grapes. The future is a vortex of possibilities: a car alarm siren, electronic bingo cages, being swallowed alive by a pink make-believe cottage.

–Scott Hightower