The first round was supposed to go better than this. It's the second week of March, and every seat in the backroom of Kieran's Irish Pub is filled for the Grand Slam, the Twin Cities' biggest poetry slam of the year. Thien-Bao Phi, last year's champion, takes the stage and stands before the microphone, his soft face framed by slicked-back black hair and a wispy goatee. He jerks his eyes open, swings his arms wide, and shouts the first lines of his poem "What's an Asian Man?": "OH MY GOD/I'm one of those.../ASIAN GUYS./So what am I doing... More >>>