Poetry. Evolving Drinks which Penguins Recall takes you on a whooshing ride in a twisted orbit, churning up the flip view of a boundless past to get to either side of luck. Along the way, it ponders the wrecking ball, probes the origin of ambition, coaxes inertia, and interjects gravity, along with other improbable phenomena.
L. Blume was formerly a fortune-cookie writer who now writes longer works that still fit on a single piece of paper. For more information, visit lblume.com
I couldn't understand any of the poems in this book. I couldn't even understand any of the sentences in the poems in this book. I mean, I could understand the individual words just fine. I'm pretty sure the words were written in English. I'm not so sure the sentences were. They were just random words thrown together. It looked like something you could send when you let your phone guess your next word for you, albeit with bigger words than "I" and "laugh" and "pizza". The only reason I read it was because I won it in a Goodreads giveaway, and the only reason I would ever buy it is if I was teaching a class on analyzing poetry and decided to see how far the students would go before admitting that it looks like gibberish. And I would give the students who admitted it an 'A' on that assignment, because it is gibberish.