My reading relationship with Scott Laudiati is still of a fairly young age; I’ve read Bone House while staying in downtrodden motels for work trips and fell in some kind of love I can’t yet describe. So like any curious wanderer through fields and forests of words, I dug deeper into the literary arsenal of Laudati with “Camp Winapooka”.
With lines like “because they knew the flag only flew for them now, and the rest of us were just guests long ago uninvited”, Laudati perfectly illustrates american patriotism, and you can decipher the meaning in any number of ways depending on your perception of America and “freedom”. In the poem “beautiful things”, it wrenches loose the rusted, crusted, and tightened-by-adolescence bolts and nuts keeping my emotions imprisoned inside my brain so easily that everything I’ve ever felt as a teenager is suddenly and without prejudice released out in the open forcing me to remember all the good times and the hilariously awkward times and all the times I was introduced to pain, horror, tragedy, and regret, experienced while growing up. In another poem, one of my absolute, unquestionable favorite lines of poetry ever, now, “you were a dream I’d been saving since my first life”, makes me want to be that person to get poetry tattooed on my inner thigh to remind all those who go down on me just how serene and reflective I can be.
This book is a soulwork of honest stitchery, something rare and unexpected in the world of self-published authors. To modify an internet meme I’ve seen written about the show “The Office”: To think I could have lived a thousand lives during any number of eras throughout time and somehow I am existing in the same existence as Scott Laudati and his poetry. That pretty much sums up how I’ve felt about these words thus far. Can’t wait to read more from this poetic obelisk.
Scott Laudati is the author of books “Camp Winapooka”, “Bone House”, and more, and is apparently a very sporting fan of shucking oysters. I wonder what Freud would make of that.