The shape of things in
A post-traumatic brain injury (TBI) mind
Cohere into a slapdash snow globe.

We ride the winds of consciousness toward
A beacon of infinitude
That which untethers us from the vagaries of our
Past, sputtering selves.

Atmospheric echoes of intention, choice,
Free will, and curiosity become sporadic
Silences of white opacity.

The windowsill looks towards the rolling Olentangy,
And water seems an exodus.




TBI Poetry Diary Entry

Dear Diary,

I am alive and well,
Alive and well,
Mantra swell.

My Korean-American, shape-shifting self,
In all of its post-TBI g(l)ory—
Back under the spell of language, literature, life,

But that is another story.*

*Thank you, Ayendy, for this line.
Photo by Giles Clement