
Gifting Made Simple
Give the Gift of ChoiceClick below to purchase a Prairie Mall eGift Card that can be used at participating retailers at Prairie Mall.Buy Gift CardHome
Decade of the Brain: Poems
Coles
Loading Inventory...
Decade of the Brain: Poems in Grande Prairie, AB
Current price: $29.50

Coles
Decade of the Brain: Poems in Grande Prairie, AB
Current price: $29.50
Loading Inventory...
Size: Paperback
*Product information and pricing may vary - to confirm current pricing, availability, shipping, and return information please contact Coles. In the event of a pricing discrepancy, the retailer's price will apply.
In the deeply personal Decade of the Brain , Janine Joseph writes of a newly-naturalized American citizen who suffers from post-concussive memory loss after a major auto accident.
The collection is an odyssey of what it means to recover—physically and mentally—in the aftermath of trauma and traumatic brain injury, charting when “before” crosses into “after.” Through connected poems, buckling and expansive syntax, ekphrasis, and conjoined poetic forms, Decade of the Brain remembers and misremembers hospital visits, violence and bodily injury, intimate memories, immigration status, family members, and the self.
After the accident I turned out
all of the lights in the room while I watched,
concussed, from the mirror. I edged like a fever
with nothing on the tip of my tongue.
In the deeply personal Decade of the Brain , Janine Joseph writes of a newly-naturalized American citizen who suffers from post-concussive memory loss after a major auto accident.
The collection is an odyssey of what it means to recover—physically and mentally—in the aftermath of trauma and traumatic brain injury, charting when “before” crosses into “after.” Through connected poems, buckling and expansive syntax, ekphrasis, and conjoined poetic forms, Decade of the Brain remembers and misremembers hospital visits, violence and bodily injury, intimate memories, immigration status, family members, and the self.
After the accident I turned out
all of the lights in the room while I watched,
concussed, from the mirror. I edged like a fever
with nothing on the tip of my tongue.




















