This is the type of book you gotta read aloud, the type you either get or you don’t and if you don’t it’s not for you and that’s okay. It’s loud, it’s proud (ain’t no asking for mercy/no regret/no forgiveness either), rhythmic. In the brief 80 something pages, Kapri sets you on fire, excites you, scares you, makes you feel at once alienated and comforted. In short, it’s the best barstool conversation you’ll ever have with a poet.