{"id":2353,"date":"2018-10-28T23:52:21","date_gmt":"2018-10-28T23:52:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/barrowstreet.org\/press\/?page_id=2353"},"modified":"2018-11-01T23:04:34","modified_gmt":"2018-11-01T23:04:34","slug":"fujinamimoore","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/barrowstreet.org\/press\/fujinamimoore\/","title":{"rendered":"Moore"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t4X2\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/h1>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
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\n\t\t\t\t\t\tan online poetry journal\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/h2>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
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\n\t\t\t\t\t\tPhoto \"Silfra, Iceland\" by Melissa Hotchkiss\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

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by James Fujinami Moore<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

Uncle Frank tells me to name all the Chinese myths I know.
\n . . . the five identical brothers?<\/em>
\nThe five identical brothers, Uncle Frank says, is a fake myth made by the white people who can't tell the slant-eyes apart.
\nOpium, Uncle Frank says, was a conspiracy to keep the Chinaman impotent so he would not breed.
\nUncle Frank tells me that I am not Chinese and sometimes I agree.
\nSometimes over dinner he would tell the scariest story I knew.
\nThe story was called The Big Chicken and it featured a big chicken. Bok bok.
\nUncle Frank was not a chicken, he was a dragon.
\nTall as the trees, with a flattening voice.
\nAt his first wedding ceremony, he wore a gorilla suit.
\nHis first wife lit herself on fire.
\nUncle Frank is a recluse now.
\nThe Big Chicken gobbles up the street, bok bok.<\/em>
\nThe Big Chicken is behind you as you run, bok bok.<\/em>
\nYou hear it eating the door as you sprint upstairs, bok bok.<\/em>
\nOutside the window the world is lightless like it was before creation and for a moment just a moment you're safe.
\nThen an enormous gleaming eye fills the window, so close to touch.
\nBok bok.<\/em><\/p>\n

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\tmidnight at Banshee\t\t\t\t\t<\/h5>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
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by James Fujinami Moore<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

A dead boy walks into a bar
\nand orders a drink and the bartender says
\nWe don't serve your kind, dead boy<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p> \n

and the dead boy nods
\nhis perforated head
\nand dead cold vodka pours out.<\/p> \n

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The bartender wipes it up.
\nA dead boy walks into
\na bar and sits next to a dead boy<\/p>\n

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and says what's wrong with him?<\/em>
\nand the bartender says We don't
\nserve dead boys<\/em><\/p>\n

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and the dead boy lays his slit
\nthroat right down
\nand out pours a sweet ice-wine.<\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

Like he\u2019s only asleep.
\nA dead boy walks into the bar
\nand says whaddya got?<\/em> and the bartender says<\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

Two dead boys and a cocktail<\/em> and the dead boy
\nsmiles wide. His tongue unfolds
\ninto a grey-furred moth, clicking.<\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

His teeth go crackle-
\ncrack! I'll have what he\u2019s having,<\/em>
\nhe grins, and his grin sloughs off its skin<\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

and underneath is not a grin.<\/p>\n

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Poet's Statement: I think a lot of us have people in our lives who serve as the gatekeepers to our own cultures and identities. Growing up, Uncle Frank was mine. One afternoon over lunch, he told me that a man is not a part of a culture if he does not know its fairy tales, and that I wasn\u2019t real Chinese. I treasure these moments when someone tells me I\u2019m not really ____; sometimes, that absence makes for a good definition.<\/p>\n<\/span>\n

Banshee is a local dive bar that I used to frequent in grad school. It surprises me that more ghost stories aren\u2019t set in dives; there\u2019s a tinge of unreality & strange that comes with the dust on the good bottles. This was originally a Halloween prompt to write a poem about horror, but every time I try to write horror it ends up funny. Or the reverse.<\/p>\n<\/span>\n

Bio:\u00a0James Fujinami Moore received his MFA in poetry from Hunter College. His work has appeared in Guesthouse<\/em>, and the Pacifica Literary Review<\/em>. He lives in New York.<\/p>\n<\/span>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

4X2 an online poetry journal Photo “Silfra, Iceland” by Melissa Hotchkiss American myth by James Fujinami Moore Uncle Frank tells me to name all the Chinese myths I know. . . . the five identical brothers? The five identical brothers, Uncle Frank says, is a fake myth made by the white people who can’t tell…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"full-width-page.php","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2353","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/barrowstreet.org\/press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2353","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/barrowstreet.org\/press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/barrowstreet.org\/press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/barrowstreet.org\/press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/barrowstreet.org\/press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2353"}],"version-history":[{"count":17,"href":"https:\/\/barrowstreet.org\/press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2353\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2442,"href":"https:\/\/barrowstreet.org\/press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2353\/revisions\/2442"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/barrowstreet.org\/press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2353"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}