Joshua Gage is an ornery curmudgeon who graduated from the Low Residency MFA Program in Creative Writing at Naropa University. He has a penchant for Pendleton shirts, rye whiskey, and any poem strong enough to yank the breath out of his lungs. He stomps around Cleveland in a purple bathrobe and hosts the monthly Deep Cleveland Poetry Hour.
"Zombies don't do five-seven-five (so many fingers missing)! This fun book of masterfully written one-gasp poetry proves that the force and beauty of haiku--even those about a walking dead apocalypse--have nothing to do with syllable counting. Your flesh will crawl--but, hopefully, won't crawl away!" -- David G. Lanoue, President of the Haiku Society of America
I settled in this morning with a cup of coffee and read Joshua Gage's Inhuman: Haiku from the Zombie Apocalypse. If you love zombies and poetry this is a must read. Even if you're not into zombies, there are many poignant poems: winter fog-- / the playground carousel / turns by itself. For me, many of these Haikus feel spot on as I sit quarantined in my home. Grab a copy you won't regret it.
Truly chilling horror poetry with an incredible sense of place. Places, really, as this book takes you on a tour of the zombie apocalypse from the bottom of the sea to hospital wards and everywhere in between.