This is kinda difficult to review. Poetry is so personal and so subjective to the reader’s individual experience that it’s difficult to tell others about it and whether or not they would like it. And at only 50 pages, I’m not sure how much I can actually say. But I will give this my best shot.
It’s seems to me that Scafidi writes his poetry to express frustrations with daily life, but with undertones of happiness at the little things. At the same time, if he was trying to get me to feel something, it didn’t come through. Some of these poems are good for a quick meditation, but it wasn’t exactly a moving collection of works.
If you want a quick read for a busy schedule, this isn’t a bad collection. It’s pretty good for taking a few minutes out of your day to slow down. I’ll go ahead and give this 3 gnomes.
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