Prophet

BASTARD sped clergymen

Sums collected,

Express traveled,

Strangely fantasied,

Possessed of idle dreams,

Not knowing, but full of fear.

Prophet me streets,

Sing in rude rhymes

To hundreds treading:

Highness up your crown.

-Job

(Remix poem based on excerpt from Shakespeare’s King John: Act 4, Scene 2)

The cicada laughs

Wings like clouds

Mount the wind

Shoulder the blue sky

Beat a whirlwind

Setting off a six month gale

When the bird looks down

All he sees is blue too

Water piled up

Deep enough to

Bear up the big boat.

Looking up

The cicada laughs.

-Job

(Cut-up poem based on Chuang Tzu)