Recently, an older Chinese lady stopped me on the trails near my home. She said my 16-month old son was beautiful. I said, thank you. She added that he looked like a hermaphrodite. I returned the compliment. She looked askew at me. I am glad that my son looks like a cute hermaphrodite (zhong-xing). I
[This is Part Two; see Part One here] I stand before the fishmonger at the compact grocery west of the university. I am sick with letters; broken with images; music has shackled me; I have undermined Nature, Father Time skips over me. Phrases of unknown origin Chinese my brain. Can “Chinese” be used
Renowned poet Charlie Brice is getting older. Bolder. Brighter. Lighter. Or just more aged. Upon turning 70, he lost his sight and then his hearing. Or was it the other way around? He cannot remember. From Charlie comes four flashes of one night: Four Haiku At night in bed my dreams hide behind a glass
Success After reciting my poem and making a few explanatory remarks, you point at my nose and say, “You have a hanger-on.” I wonder, is this what success feels like? From Jillian Brady’s new book, Machines that make Machines, available here. This poem, for me, is in part about acceptance of the lives and struggles
Story, Essay, Memoir and Video Competition $300 for the winner, or split between multiple winners. Stereotypes can kill. But that’s not funny. That’s tragic. Create something at least somewhat humorous or amusingly ironic or smirkingly kafkaesque. Pictured above is Radio Raheem from Spike Lee’s most important joint, Do the Right Thing. The movie alternated between funny
This is Chinese Eggplant, Zach thought, shaped more like a banana than an egg. Purple, like the American eggplant, but tastes better. “The flavor is more concentrated,” said Zach’s mother, as if reading Zach’s mind. “That’s why it’s better.” Zach picked up the knife and made an incision down the center of the Chinese eggplant,
Presenting the first chapter of Bing Bang, an ongoing memoir by Mr. Bing Bang, a weak-willed Oriental American publicly pondering his life and surreal times. In this installment, “Chinese Buckwheat” aka Bing Bang drops a flaming crayon on his polyester pants. Southern Baptist madness ensues.