The Dead One, The Unconscious One, Thundering in Your Ear, Thriving Slumber

‘How do you read a book that is falling apart in your hands? Jay Gao proposes the sentence as something rotting and churning: a “fungal shimmer”. In The Dead One... mud and flesh are evoked in configurations that illuminate the moment when “earth gives way”.’
Bhanu Kapil

‘An “ecological tantrum”, a medieval dream-vision, a catalogue of the many different things life contains, bound together in and by their “otherhood”. What holds these elements together? The response this poem offers is “Love”.’
Oli Hazzard

‘Is it possible to replace one’s nervous system with a book? I would choose this one – a hypnotic, haunting articulation of queer ecopoetics felt beneath the skin... I am in love with its disorientations, its fluent gorgeousness, its clarity, abundance and play.’
Maria Sledmere

'A book that is clever in execution and brilliantly experimental too... It’s a delightful reminder there’s always new ground to tread, even with themes as ancient as the trees.'
The Observer